Masters of the Eight Keys: Cosmic Fracture
by ErisEquinox
Summary: Five years before Sora's journey, worlds across the cosmos were savaged by the Heartless, and rifts to their dark realm were torn open. Two young Masters and their allies had stood against this massive force of shadows, those that commanded them, and a figure they believed wished to extinguish all light in the universe. Their story, however, is not without hardship and suffering.
1. Prologue: Denial of Peace

Pre-Story Notes: As the summary indicates, this story takes place halfway in the ten-year gap between Birth by Sleep and the first Kingdom Hearts. Characters both familiar and new will appear over the course of the plot, some from Disney, some from Square-Enix, and as per the usual in these things, a little more than a handful of original creations (OCs). Some worlds explored in later installments are shown their past in greater detail, though early spoilers won't be given here. Character similarities (OCs to Canons, specifically) may be apparent to some readers, but I will state that, for the most part, these are intentional. I apologize in advance if anything here seems similar (or even identical) to any stories out there, which may happen given the sheer number of Kingdom Hearts stories out there in the depths of the internet, especially on sites like this one alone!

Pointing out ANY plot holes and/or inconsistencies is greatly welcomed and appreciated, as I want the narrative to flow as smoothly and with as few problems as possible, and it gives me reason to go back and edit. Please give constructive criticism if there is anything that you feel can be reasonably changed, and for the sake of civility, don't post comments that are hurtful or offensive for the sake of upsetting others.

As a final note, transitions and breaks are formatted to look something like this, so that you can better follow the flow: -**Break**-

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These are used to separate the notes from the story, as the document editor seems to not cooperate much with spacing or use of multiple repeating symbols, for whatever reason.

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**Prologue: Denial of Peace**

Darkness. All around, it seemed to be infinite in scope. And yet, despite seeing nothing but inky blackness in every direction, the figure that tumbled through its depths could make out its own form as plain as day. It was a young man, with wavy, medium-length ebony hair, fair skin tanned by sunlight, and light grey eyes. His face was a tad rounded, with his jawline, nose, and lips the typical size and shape for a mid-teenager. His height was a little greater than that compared to the average for those his age, and while his build was certainly solid when all things were considered, it was not bulky or cumbersome. In fact, he appeared more around the norm when wearing his usual clothes. He was garbed in a pair of black sweatpants held together by a monochrome drawstring, a steel grey shirt that was complimented by a ghostly white mantle, its hood pinned over the boy's head due to the speed of the fall, and a pair of brown steel toe boots and white socks protected his feet. His hands were covered by a set of black gloves that were made to fit snugly and allow very little hindrance to any task that required manual dexterity.

Though he knew he was falling, the boy felt no sensation of wind whipping in his face, and his gut lacked the sensation of turning over itself that one normally gets from such an experience. He wondered to himself if what he was going through was even real, or if he was in another one of those strange dreams he had been having lately. He could not remember when he had actually started falling, and thus had not the faintest clue to how long it had persisted. It may have been seconds, minutes, or even possibly hours; he was not sure. He did realize, though, that he was not picking up speed or decreasing in velocity as he dropped. So, by that logic, he had to have been dreaming. But, if that was true, then he would have awakened from the shock of recognizing he was asleep, and no matter how much his mind seemed to urge him to jolt awake, it did not occur. What did happen, however, was something that the young man had only experienced once before, and he could have sworn it was only in a dream.

Below the youth, a great pillar came into his vision, the top of it decorated in what appeared to be stained glass. And as his form approached it, he noticed that his fall abruptly slowed, allowing his body enough time to right itself, as though his feet were guided by some sort of force other than gravity. His descent reduced in speed until he was almost floating towards his destination, his boots touching down upon the pillar with a gentle clap as he finally landed. When he looked around, changes began to creep into his vision.

The darkness surrounding the place cleared up ever so slightly, appearing now as more of a thick and black fog with the barest hints of light shining through choice patches. Turning his eyes down, the young man was surprised at the pattern he saw on the surface. Four keys, each of a different shape, were arranged in such a way that they formed a cross when joined at the tips, and the ornate colors around them seemed to be neither overly vibrant nor too shaded. In the ends of each handle were circles, one white, one black, one grey, and one that seemed to reflect every color perceptible to the human eye at once.

Most disconcerting to the youth was the fact that even though the surface was clearly made of a non-reflective material, he could see himself in it, and it looked all wrong to him. His reflection seemed to confer an idea of how he would appear if all of his colors were inverted, if his appearance were more disheveled, and if his eyes expressed a sense of wildness as opposed to the serene calm he was used to seeing. But, though the likeness had suddenly appeared, it slowly dissolved until there was nothing more to glean from the surface except for the image engraved upon it, and maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, but the boy could have sworn that he saw his twisted reflection smile darkly at him when he had made no such expression himself.

Shaking off his head to clear the unease he felt, the young man paced around the edge of the pillar, attempting to see if there was anything else that he had not noticed before. The sides of the platform were also decorated in a similar manner to the top, though only small lines spaced apart every so often were evident, the rest being obsidian black. Peering over the edge, he noticed that the darkness continued down indefinitely, the depths just as murky and mixed as the horizons around.

(It would seem the time for you to awaken further is fast approaching), a voice called out to him, seeming to echo from within his mind.

With a start, the youth turned himself about, trying to find where it had come from, but seeing no one else present. He had reasoned that perhaps he had imagined it and that it was simply his mind playing tricks on him. And yet, the mysterious voice had seemed much too audible for it to be just an auditory hallucination. Maybe, it did belong to something else, but that something had elected to remain unnoticed.

(No reason and no means to be hidden), it said more loudly than before in response to the boy's ruminations, (the presence you feel is all around you, encompassing every one of your senses, attached to your very being. It is worrying that you do not remember this place, seeing as you have visited before).

Now, the youth was more than certain he was not imagining things. What it had claimed was more than a little unusual, however. "I don't understand what you mean by that," The boy replied confusedly, his head swiveling from side to side to try and discern the disembodied voice's location, "If you're a part of me and my senses, and are everywhere about me…then what, pray tell, are you supposed to be? And where am I exactly? If I had been here before, I would think that I would remember it!"

(The solution to the former two of those inquiries is one and the same), it stated ambiguously, (you are a smart child. You will come to recall what that answer is, but only once you have decided which of three traits you value the most and the least, and have come to face what awaits you further within. What choices you had made before will be overwritten by any that you make here, assuming they turn out differently).

With those words, three white marble pedestals rose from the ground, each half the height of the youth. For a moment, they seemed to hold nothing, but then, light shined forth from just above their peaks, revealing objects that seemed to float of their own volition, turning over themselves in the air. One was a staff with a deep green shaft, yellow highlights on either ends below the head, which itself was a strange blue symbol composed of three circles, two of which were mounted on top of the center one in a fashion like ears. Another was a shield of black, with a red rim and an equally crimson emblem on its front identical to the one on the staff. And the last was a sword with a blue handle, yellow hilt and end, with yet again the same sign as the other two weapons featured on the hilt just below its long, silvery blade.

The young man strode up to the latter of the three and gently took hold of the handle of the sword, looking it over and giving it a calculated appraisal, along with a few experimental swings. "'The power of the warrior,'" he spoke involuntarily, the words flowing from his mouth as though they were destined to come forth, "'formidable strength, fearsome potential. Might that heralds both salvation and disaster for both its users and those around them.'"

So much had come to pass for him to consider turning to such devastating potency, but he hesitated only because of the sound of this power being a double-edged sword. Even if it could give him the ability to save others, what manner of misfortune was it capable of bringing if he used it irresponsibly? For the moment, the boy laid the weapon back on the pedestal, watching as it returned to its prior position and carried on floating as though it had not been disturbed. There were still two others he could consider to be his greatest strength or weakness, and so he next made his way over to the stand that held the shield. He gripped the sides of it with one arm and guided it over his other so that he fit through the straps on the back, his free hand taking hold of the second band. It was large enough to protect him from a weapon blow, but the coverage in terms of area was not very great.

"'The power of the guardian,'" came that same automated flow from before, "'Mighty defense, morbid isolation. Protection offered to repel both forces that would do one ill, and those that would seek to aid one in need.'"

Here was yet another item that would provide him with both a helpful and harmful power. Was an impenetrable guard worth becoming lonesome over? He was certain of the answer to such a question, and he replied with confidence. "If you can hear me, oh voice from all directions, I have made my decision. Though it may seem foolish to some, I choose to give up the power of the guardian, because such power was not afforded to me before, and it can grant me no satisfying ends to reach at this point."

In response to his words, the shield vanished from his arm, dissipating into small particles of light that drifted away before blinking into nothingness. That only left the staff and the sword to choose as his advantage, and the former was all that was left that he had not yet examined. Wasting no time, he strode up to its respective pedestal and took it in both hands, rolling it around in his fingers to get a feel for its weight. For something that seemed top-heavier due to the design on its tip, it felt rather light overall, given its lengthy size.

Once more, he felt the urge to speak of the weapon. "'The power of the mystic. Inexhaustible magic, incomprehensible foreboding. Arcane might that can weave spells both of creation and destruction, simultaneously placating and promoting fear."

The youth shook his head and returned the staff to its resting place, a bit daunted by the dual nature of the things he was learning of the objects before him. He knew that the way of the sword was more familiar to him, and yet, he could not deny his curiosity at trying his hand at the art of magic. Perhaps, he reasoned, if he were to go with what he was more certain he could control, then it would be easier to maintain responsible use of such power. Each moment that passed served to reinforce what he deemed to be the logical choice, and he found himself striding once more towards the sword. An initial moment of hesitation came to him when he reached out for the blade, momentarily pulling his hand back. His conviction won out, however, and he grasped the hilt in his right hand, lifting the weapon high into the air.

"Let the power of the warrior be my greatest strength, then," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, "I've made up my mind."

The sword did not disappear, as he had expected. Instead, it remained in his grip, no lighter or heavier than when he picked it up. The staff behind him disappeared the same way as the shield had, and the pedestals that held the three items tiled off to one side, before slowly sinking into the stained glass surface of the pillar. In the center of the platform, a white light shot forth, forming an ovular gateway that shined with a silvery glow. Without being prompted to move forward, the young man stepped through, brightness enveloping him and his vision. Rather than falling or feeling as though he was being pulled apart, the boy was surprised to find it seeming as though he kept walking forward, blinded as he was by the light. What seemed to him like dozens of minutes was really only a few, before he emerged from the other side of what he assumed was a portal.

The location was not much different than where he had been. It was still a tall pillar covered in stained glass, but the mural depicted was markedly different. It was one of the keys that had been in the previous image, its single notable tooth shaped like a reaping scythe's curved blade. The entirety of the object was a mixture of black and red, with a gem inlaid near the head bearing a ruby-like appearance, almost making the key seem as though it had an eye. At the bottom of the great picture was a single word: "Executioner". Giving it a second glance and getting a better look at it, the boy discerned that the key seemed more like a weapon than something one would use to open a lock, seeing as there was a handle in the bottom ring below the main body, similar to the hilt on his sword. And within that guard was yet more ebony, perhaps to let the red handle be strongly contrasted and visible.

Off to one side, he saw another pillar in the distance, and beyond that were yet two more, numerous steps composed of the same material suspended in mid-air connecting them all. The young man began the lengthy climb towards the next station, keeping his wits about him and his weapon at the ready. Halfway to the pillar, a shadow emerged from the floor of one of the steps, directly barring the youth's path. It had a short and somewhat stubby body, with undefined feet and claw-like fingers, a rounded head that was topped by two short antennas, with only a pair of glowing yellow eyes on its face. The boy's grip on the blade tightened as he took in the sight of the creature, his teeth clenching in a mixture of both anger and anxiety. A flood of memories came rushing to him from the depths of his mind, each one fueling him further with dread, rage, and grief.

"Heartless," he growled lowly, readying the sword in his hand, "your kind has caused me and those around me much sorrow. But, I would be wasting my breath trying to reason with beings of pure instinct, creatures little better than clever beasts."

The shadow lunged at the boy, ready to swipe with its sharpened digits, but the young man was faster, bringing up his weapon in an arch to cut off the creature. As the blade passed through its body, the being of darkness disappeared in wisps of black smoke, which soon dissipated entirely, leaving nothing behind. The youth was not given long to savor his victory, however, as his ears picked up the sounds of more movement coming from behind him. Peering over his shoulders, he noticed more of the same creatures closing in on him from the rear, lumbering in an almost comical fashion. Nothing was humorous about his predicament, though, and he started to run towards the next great pillar before him. He knew it would be more advantageous to fight them in a larger area, as the steps were too narrow to maneuver while in combat because of the risk of tumbling over the side.

Just as he reached his destination, he saw more shadows spring up from the surface, turning his head both ways. There was soon at least a dozen of the things surrounding him in one broad circle. A few of them flattened against the floor of the station and scurried around, remaining out of reach of his weapon, while others leapt forth. Jumping from his position, he brought his blade in an upward swing to meet the first foe, taking the handle with his other hand so that both arms swung his body counterclockwise, slicing through another two. He brought the sword downward with a powerful slam and cleaved yet another creature as he returned to the ground, flipping his blade back and stabbing behind him, luckily striking at yet one more. He switched to his left hand while spinning around to face the opposite direction, his diagonal arc cutting across a pair that had attempted to lunge at his back. Another step and he completed another overhead strike to a foe that had sprung back up from the surface just in time to be another victim to his blade. Dragging the edge across the ground for a moment, he performed a full circular swing, eliminating the remaining four shadows.

The boy's grip on his weapon began to relax after no more came to harass him, but he kept it close to him just in case. Drawing in a deep breath to calm himself, his eyes turned down to the mural upon the pillar, noticing that it differed from the last one. Although it shared the similarity that it was one of the keys depicted in the original picture he had found upon entering the realm, it more closely resembled a wizard's staff in design, its shaft white, the tip adorned with a spherical black crystal, and it sported very small, silvery teeth near the top to show that it was indeed a key. It possessed a more circular guard around its handle, though the mural lacked any color in the space, just like it had in the picture of the four keys forming a cross. Just like the prior image, this one also bore a single word beneath it, which the boy identified as "Warrant". It seemed peculiar to him, as he was not sure as to which context it was being used, especially if it had to do with the weapon itself.

The young man noticed that he still had some ways to go, though, when he spied the next set of steps that led towards his destination. Keeping the sword close, he resumed his trek, looking behind him occasionally to see if there were any more creatures tailing him. The fact that they had even appeared in this place was enough cause for worry. A good number of years in his life had been spent preparing to fight against their ilk, so he had been unpleasantly surprised when the time to test his skills had come sooner than expected, and with a weapon that was not his own. Still, the question of where he really was persisted in his mind. He had been no closer to answering it than when he had arrived, and the voice he had spoken to initially had not addressed him for quite some time. Or so it seemed, at least, he was unable to perceive just how much time had passed since he came to this place.

Partly lost in his musings, he came to the next pillar without trouble. The weapon on this mural had a steel grey shaft, with a pale blue guard near the handle, and teeth on both sides of the body, giving it the notion it was a sort of skeleton key. The background within the guard was a brilliant white, and a faint azure outline of a shield could be seen around the frame of the image. Its caption was both to the point and appropriate: "Defense". The youth had to admit to himself that it was quite a stunning blade, unable to help but feel a strange comfort as he gazed upon the mural at his feet.

But, he realized that his little walk was not over yet as his gaze turned to the final pillar and the flight of stained glass stairs that connected to it. Right as he took one step, however, the ground began to shake under him. He looked back to where he had entered and gasped as he saw the first station start to collapse into the darkness below, the steps leading from it to the second starting to crack and fall away. The boy gritted his teeth and broke into a sprint, not daring to look back as he made a mad dash towards his ultimate destination. Another loud rumble came to his ears, his pace picking up to its fastest as it was followed by the sound of glass fragmenting. He was not sure if he could make it given the rate at which things were falling apart behind him, and even if he did reach the final station, there was no guarantee it would remain standing. Still, he believed it best to not give up on the possibility that it would be safe, and so, he allowed his legs to keep on carrying him.

The young man nearly tripped as yet another quake rocked the area around him, knowing that it had reached the pillar he had just come from. The sound of shattering drew closer with each pounding of his feet against the steps, taking the time to skip one or two with an occasional bound. Even so, he could sense that the rate at which he was ascending the stairs was not as quick as the pace with which they were crumbling. Only a handful of steps away from the station, he dug his heels in and leaped with all his might, letting out a yell as he watched the stairs below and in front of him dissolve, throwing the sword out towards the platform. It clattered and skid across the surface until it came to rest mere feet from the other edge, the young man shutting his eyes tight.

After a moment or two hurtling through the air, his feet touched down upon the pillar, though he took a tumble, his body rolling and crashing against the hard surface. Groaning in some pain, he sat up and stretched his arms out to make sure no serious damage had been done, before rubbing at the back of his head to ease the dull aching that came from the fall. Gently, he got to his feet and gave his legs a few experimental movements, finding nothing to be broken or sprained, but he was a tad sore. With a grunt, he walked over to retrieve his sword, noticing how eerily silent the air around him had suddenly become. The platform underneath was completely still as well, though as he bent down to pick up the blade, a cold shiver ran down his back. He quickly gripped the handle and whirled about, but found nothing waiting for him. In fact, there was now nothing else aside from the area he stood on and him, the steps having vanished entirely along with the other pillars. It was almost exactly as it was in the first place he had entered.

The design on the pillar was markedly different, however. This key's teeth were merged into a single blunt shape that resembled the end of a hammer. The design was featured on both sides, however, and so it more closely reminded the boy of a gavel. The entirety of the weapon was a sunset copper in color, with the exception of the handle guard, which was a light gold that brought to mind the color of the horizon at dawn. The background behind the handle was a perfect metallic grey, serving as what the youth could describe only as a wonderful contrast against the other two colors. What shook him most deeply, and reaffirmed his belief that it was based on a gavel in design, was the moniker displayed underneath the key, near the base of the image: "Judge". It resonated to him in a way that the other murals did not, even though it was just as much a part of the initial picture as the rest. And why had this particular pillar not crumbled while the others had?

(So, child), came the disembodied voice once more, (have you yet discerned the true nature of this place)?

The boy stroked his chin thoughtfully, pondering on the question and the events that had occurred up to this point. "It seems like a place that is within a dream."

(You are somewhat correct), the phantom tone replied, (It is as you said, but its effects reach out into reality. What happens to you here, such as the pain you experience, is in fact afflicting you in the waking world. Yet, this realm is not part of the real world, and just as dreams are each unique to the people that have them, so too, is this realm shaped by what is in your mind and your heart).

The young man was somewhat conflicted by this answer. On one hand, what he had gone through did seem very real, the pain included. But on the other, it seemed a shoddy explanation to him, especially given that there was no proof such a realm existed, and even if it did, he had no idea how he had come to arrive.

(You have appeared in this place because it is time for you to call upon another measure of its power), the voice said, once again reading into his thoughts, (One cannot fight the tides of harmfulness without the true strength of the heart, after all).

The youth looked up towards the darkness around him, a look of recognition evident on his features. "So then, this realm is my heart? Although my recollection is hazy…it does have a sense of familiarity about it."

(Yes, you are starting to remember. But, before you can obtain another fraction of its might as your own, you must pass one more trial. You must, for the time being, quell the other half of your very existence).

From the other side of the circle, a pool of shadows formed on the surface of the pillar. From it came a familiar form, the twisted reflection that he had observed earlier, now in a physical state. Its skin was dark, hair as white as clouds, and the eyes were composed of black sclera, golden irises and pasty pupils. Its clothing, aside from the shoes and gloves, matched the young man's own garb as well, though they were entirely white. It held an opposite-colored sword in its left hand that otherwise matched the one the boy had. With a grin, it gave a few threatening swings before letting the blade fall to his side, taking steps forward to approach the young man.

"So, you are the darkness within me," the latter said, keeping his own weapon at the ready while the hairs on his neck stood up and his skin started to become riddled with goosebumps.

His eyes narrowed as he attempted to make the being in front of him feel just as vulnerable as he did in that moment. It did not slow in its advance, however, giving its sword a twirl and letting the handle roll along its grip, remaining silent otherwise. The youth scowled and backed away slowly in reaction to the gesture, irritated from not being answered and for being intimidated in such a manner while his shadow stayed unafraid. Deciding to take the initiative, he brought his sword in an overhead arc down against the reflection, but was shocked to find that it mirrored his precise strategy, and as a result, blocked his attack. He pushed against the force of the other blade, but found that neither he nor the being could budge in this contest of strength. Each of them jumped back and readied for another assault, their movements in sync as they once more clashed blades, sparks flying off from the impact. The boy belted out a battle cry as he slashed incessantly, combining the various swings and movements he had used before against the shadow creatures.

Each time, though, he found the twisted mockery of him mimicking his attacks and repelling them as their weapons came into contact. Though he realized he should not be surprised at a reflection acting like it should, he knew that it was not a mere likeness. It had intent, and he found that he had to imitate its own occasional proactive strikes just to keep from being harmed. He was not sure how long he would be able to keep up the pace, deciding to go on the defensive for a bit to see if it would make any difference. Unfortunately, he discovered that he was using just as much energy to protect himself as he did while he was on the offensive.

The boy attempted to pull away from the danger zone by trying to dodge the attacks, but the other being would turn its sword at the last moment to compensate for the change in direction, not losing any momentum and forcing the boy to bring his own blade up to stave off the reflection's assault. Using this opportunity, he pushed forward and charged with his shoulder, relieved when he finally landed a hit, forcing the dark lookalike to take a step backward. He followed up with another sweep from his blade, catching the other across the chest with the tip and tearing into the fabric of his shirt. "So your guard isn't entirely impenetrable," the young man mumbled, raising his sword up and over his shoulder. A thin smile crossed his lips, the revelation having helped him to regain some confidence. "Let me be the judge of your resistance to this, then!"

As he swung his blade in a diagonal motion, it transformed before his eyes in a flash of light, taking on the appearance of the very key below him on the mural. Its blunted teeth smashed into the side of the reflection and sent it tumbling, its blade clattering noisily against the surface of the pillar. As it moved to stand, the boy rushed forth and used the momentum to bring the weapon into an upward-bound strike, the impact making the figure reel. It quickly regained its balanced after springing off of one hand, however, and the blade it lost returned to its hand in a flare of darkness. The young man hesitated in continuing his attack when he saw that it had now taken on a negative likeness to his own weapon, the reflection grinning deviously. It did not delay in resuming the fight, leaping forth and bringing the shaft of the key down where the boy was. He jumped away just in time, watching wide-eyed as a wide area of the ground cracked and buckled under the sheer force of the slam.

It was more than evident now that the reflection of himself was no longer simply reacting to his own assault, but rather, attacking completely of its own volition. It came after him with inhuman speed, its legs a near blur as it once again lunged forward, slicing in an upward diagonal arc, followed by a full turning slash and a downward strike, all of which the youth barely managed to avoid. He countered with his own combination of blows, but all it succeeded in doing was pushing the being back a few steps. It smirked at its opponent's seemingly futile effort, moving to ball its free hand into a fist and attempting to punch at his gut, though it was redirected by the boy's own open hand, which summarily delivered a fierce uppercut that made the reflection stagger backward.

The young man pinned its blade down against the surface of the pillar and kicked out with one foot, causing the dark image to fall back against the floor and continue to tumble. He watched as it impacted the edge of the platform and careened off the side, vanishing into the bleak darkness below. He let his weapon drop to his side and he panted a bit as he took in what seemed a victory, wiping his brow in satisfaction.

(Certainly impressive), the voice said with a genuinely complimentary tone, (but you should not consider this the last conflict, as you have merely suppressed the shadow within yourself. It cannot be destroyed so easily, and you must remain vigilant to prevent it from overtaking you).

The boy nodded solemnly and took a moment to glean his impression of the weapon he now held. "The darkness of my heart seemed ill-prepared to handle my Keyblade's power, but I have a feeling it won't be caught so unawares when it next rears its head."

(A wise observation and consideration for caution), the disembodied tone replied, (your darkness is fueled by negative emotions and by your own strength. The mightier the light shines within you, the deeper the shadow it will cast. As you grow more powerful, so will your other side. Before you can move on to the next trial, however, you must return to the waking world and take the first of many steps towards the destiny that awaits you).

And just as those last words were spoken, the boy found his vision growing dark. Sounds became more muted as he noticed even the noise of his own breathing starting to fade out, his strength giving out. Feeling faint, he fell forward, his weapon dissipated into sparks of light, and everything went black just before he hit the ground.

-**Awaken**-

The mid-morning light was hard on the young man's eyes as they opened suddenly, bringing up his forearm to partially shield his vision. Looking around, he realized that he was currently sitting up in bed. The room he was in had midnight blue walls and was furnished with a dark wood dresser for clothes as well as a black metallic desk with a monitor and keyboard in the center for a computer in the lower cabinet. A few nick knacks were placed here and there on the former, and a number of posters and pictures dotted the walls. It was the picturesque place for a boy in the modern day, and one that helped him to relax after his sudden awakening. With his wits about him fully now, the boy recalled that it was not actually the first time that such a vision had come to him while he had been at rest. Since it was past, however, he took in a breath of relief, stepping out of bed to get himself freshened up for the morning. After a routine wash, he put on a set of clothing identical to what he had been wearing in his dream, though he kept the hood of the mantle down since he had no need of it for protection from the elements. Flashing himself a smile in the mirror in an attempt to lift his spirits, he made his way to the bedroom door and stepped out. He noticed the room across from him was also open, and his ears picked up the soft sound of footfalls against carpet, a figure coming to its entrance.

In the opposite doorway stood a boy of similar age, with caramel brown hair that was a bit more on the wild side of style than his own, slightly more tanned skin, and hazel eyes peering back at his light grey orbs. Like the black-haired youth, his face and its features were mostly average when compared to other young men his age. He sported a plain black t-shirt and blue jeans held up by a brown leather belt. His feet were clad in a pair of blue and grey running shoes, and he wore a pair of fingerless red gloves on his hands. He was almost the same height as the other young man, and his body had a nearly identical build. And upon seeing the other boy, his expression turned bright and he gave a friendly smile and a wave. "Good morning, Viscus," he greeted cheerfully, though subsequently failing to stifle a yawn, "did you sleep well last night?"

"Unfortunately, I didn't, Verité," the black-haired youth said glumly, covering his mouth to hide his mimicking of his friend's prior action.

Verité's amiable demeanor turned to one of concern at his friend's response. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Were you having dreams about...well, you-know-what again?"

"No, not this time," the other young man answered, letting out a weary sigh upon hearing such a topic being brought up, "I went through something startlingly similar to an Awakening. The confusing part is that I have no idea why it happened, nor how it came about."

The brown-haired boy cocked his head to one side and rested his cheek against his shoulder, scratching his chin in contemplation. "Hmm, Sir Gulbrand said that most Keyblade users only experience such a thing if they are awakening or are in some sort of great peril," he explained, "From the looks of it, I'd say the latter is out, and considering we both have had our Keyblades for quite some time, the former can't be true either."

"There has to have been at least one person before who's experienced this," Viscus said, "anyway, we can bring it up to him when we visit with him in a little bit. For the moment, I just want to get the day started and freshen up a little bit first. You go on ahead and tell your mom we're getting our breakfast to go while I check up on something before I hit the shower."

While the lighter-haired boy nodded to him and proceeded to go downstairs, Viscus returned his attention to his room for the moment and strolled over to the dresser across from his bed. He looked down at the photo he kept there, before reaching forward to lift it closer and run his other hand over it endearingly. The picture was of his parents with him between them as a young child, with another older boy kneeling down on the ground with his hands on young Viscus' legs so that the small kid could perch on his shoulders, each of them wearing an expression of joy. It had been from his mother that he had inherited his dark hair and the softer features of his body. And it had been from his father that Viscus had gained his muscular structure and his rather uncommonly colored eyes. As much as he wanted to smile back at the portrait of his parents and his brother, Viscus could not prompt his facial muscles to do so. Another thought lingered in his mind as he reflected on the image, his eyes turning towards the calendar he kept on the wall behind the dresser. A series of slashes were struck through the days that had gone by, with tomorrow's date circled and two more identically marked days that followed it. Within the border he had drawn around that time, he read the words "Invasion of Darkness".

He remembered how, eight years ago tomorrow, his world had been invaded by a horde of the creatures of shadow known as Heartless. Their numbers were not nearly as great as he had heard regarding stories of others worlds nowadays, but considering it had occurred in a time where they would only appear when summoned by a master of darkness, it had been quite the formidable force. Viscus and Verité had been little more than children back then, so they had been unable to do more than run from the Heartless. Such a painful recollection triggered an increased grip around his family photo, the young man remembering how they had been hounded by the creatures, and that they had taken up arms to protect him. But the Heartless are almost impervious to conventional weapons, and so the couple had been unable to keep the shadows at bay for very long.

Still, he could hear their screams as the creatures literally stole their hearts, and how, as a result, they were consumed by the darkness. Any person or world that had experienced this same fate was inevitably swallowed by the tides of shadow. But before it could happen to his own planet, and to him, Viscus had been saved by the efforts of two Keyblade Masters, one of which was the very person that had gone on to become his now former Master, Gulbrand Aequitas. The warrior and his ally had cut a path through the Heartless that ended in the banishment of all remaining Heartless and the death of the person that had summoned them. Despite their best efforts, however, there were many that had not been saved that day.

Verité had been more fortunate, as his family had survived the onslaught. And they had sympathized with Viscus' plight, taking him under their wing and adopting him into their home, treating him as a second son. For Viscus, it was something he appreciated now more than when he had first been accepted into their home, and he thanked whatever powers out there for it. Certainly, he felt that he would never be able to refer to Verité's parents as though they were his own, but he could see them as part of an extended family, at the least.

Gulbrand, he had been told, had felt a sense of responsibility for the people he had helped, and had been more than a little surprised when the two children asked to study under him as apprentices. Initially, he had refused, but the stubbornness and determination of the boys eventually swayed his opinion, albeit Viscus recalled he had been very reluctant to accept them. With his guidance, they were relentlessly tested and trained nearly every day since then, and only recently had they managed to obtain their own Keyblades. And with that having been done, Gulbrand had given them one last trial to prove their worth as wielders of their weapons, something that Masters referred to as a Mark of Mastery. Their strength, skills, and the control of their hearts had been tested, and they were judged not only by their own Master, but by his friend and peer, Julius Veneficus, as well. In the end, both of them had passed and were accepted into the fold as equals, though the boys still called their old teacher "Sir Gulbrand" by force of habit.

Of all the things that now came to Viscus after having put it in the back of his mind for years, he found himself wondering what had ever happened to his brother. Not long after the picture he held was taken, which had been four years before the invasion by the Heartless, his elder sibling had gone missing after wandering into the forest near the cul-de-sac. His parents had been utterly distraught by his disappearance, and the search for him had gone on until the day of the Heartless invasion. Though as time had passed, the possibility of finding the boy had grown increasingly slim and spirits began to eventually falter. After the attack had been circumvented, the efforts to locate Viscus' other relative were called off, as many assumed that he too had fallen to darkness somewhere in the world, and the rest believed him to have possibly died before then. Over time, he had come to believe that they were most likely right, but it was a shame, he thought, that he never really got to know his brother.

Coming back to the present, Viscus set the photo back down on the top of his dresser and closed the door to his bathroom as he settled in for a shower. As he allowed himself to be washed clean of the previous night's grime, the thoughts of last night's vision flowed through his mind once more. If anyone knew their significance, he was sure that it would be Gulbrand. And the more he considered it, the more that it nagged him in the back of his head. Before he knew it, he was shutting off the water and drying himself off, using a dryer provided for him by Mrs. Capto, Verité's mother, to speed up the process for his hair. After throwing on a clean change of clothing exactly the same as what he had discarded earlier, and taking the time to straighten out his wavy locks, he descended the stairs so that he could join up with Verité. The other young man had been waiting at the bottom for him, holding what looked to be a couple of breakfast sandwiches in each hand. With a smirk, he tossed one to Viscus, who deftly caught it with a sideways swipe, looking it over a moment before taking a bite. The second was delivered to the young man in a more delicate manner, simply being handed over.

"Mom whipped them up for us since I told her we were going out," Verité said while chewing into one of his own sandwiches unceremoniously, his voice partly muffled by the food. His friend shot him a lightly disgusted look at his manners, causing him to cover his mouth and laugh a little bit at the expression, swallowing before speaking again. "So, still wanna just take a stroll to get that stuff off your mind? Or do you think maybe it's too important to table for now?"

Viscus smiled at his friend's question, pondering it for a moment as he continued to eat, making sure his mouth was clear before speaking again. "Hmm, well, waiting on it would just make me think about it even more, so it may be better to get answers sooner than later. Alright then, Verité, let's go and see if Sir Gulbrand knows anything about what happened with me."

"Sounds like a plan!" the other teenager exclaimed, his infectious smile helping to brighten his friend's own expression.

The two finished up their morning meal in haste, and Verité then called to his mother that they were leaving before going out the front and closing the door behind them. They each gave a contented sigh as they took in the sight of a typical suburban neighborhood bathed in the light of a warm sun. Despite all that had happened those many years ago, the tranquil nature and serene appearance of their home still brought them fair comfort. As the two walked down the sidewalk, they waved to acquaintances and other friends along the way, occasionally stopping to give them the time of day and engage in some small talk. The two boys exchanged quips and tidbits with each other as well, and made plans for what they would do later in the day after their visit with their former Master. Both came to agree that a stop by the local diner for lunch would not be a bad idea.

Viscus also decided to use this time to go into detail about his vision, the clarity from being awake with his hunger satisfied allowing him to better identify aspects that his unconscious mind had not been initially aware of. The Keyblades he had seen on the mosaics aside from his own belonged to Verité, Gulbrand, and Julius, though he was unsure what the significance was of the mural that depicted them in a cross shape. It also bothered him that all of the pillars except for the one that depicted his weapon had collapsed, wondering if it was meant to be interpreted as some sort of omen. And then there was the matter of his negative reflection, though Verité seemed to come to the same conclusion as him about its nature: that it was a manifestation of the darkness within Viscus' heart. How it seemed to be so powerful was another matter entirely, one that puzzled the pair considering that great strength without reliance upon the shadow was needed in the sort of Masters that Gulbrand molded and allowed to pass the Mark of Mastery exam.

After discussing the subject for a good while, they found themselves in the middle of the woods near their cul-de-sac, coming up on a lone cabin in the center of a clearing. It was built from simple brown wood and sported a white stone chimney on one of its short sides. It had but one door, and only a handful of single-pane windows, each of which was covered by dark horizontal blinds. The boys knew it to be Gulbrand's residence, as the Master was not one who liked to involve himself in the affairs of the nearby community, and so lived a relatively isolated life out in the forest close to them. There were times where he had made himself known, if only to ease the concerned citizens and make it clear that he meant no harm in putting the young men through their tests. Still, the people were wary of the existence and the residence of such a powerful warrior, and most of them would be more suspicious of the man if it weren't for the deeds he had done in the past.

The two boys came up to the front porch, dusting off their shoes and kicking the balls of their feet against the wood to knock loose the dirt that had gotten stuck between the grooves on the bottom, out of respect for preparing to enter their former master's home. Viscus leaned forward and knocked clearly on the door a few times, folding his arms as he moved back to wait. In short order, the pair picked up the telltale sound of footsteps moving swiftly towards them from the other side. A loud click came the moment the knob started to turn, the door swinging inward. A tall and well-toned man entered the center of the door frame, his short blond hair just barely long enough to be combed, and his piercing green eyes looking down at the young men with an air of appraisal. He was dressed in a khaki overcoat and a pair of black slacks, but his hands were bare, as opposed to the boys', while his feet were covered by a pair of deep brown combat boots. His frown, evident at his displeasure from being disturbed, shifted to a more neutral and stoic expression upon recognizing the two boys before him.

"Double V," he grunted in acknowledgement, addressing them by his personal nickname for their pairing as a team, "Here for another sparring session, I take it?"

Verité chuckled a little bit and shook his head as he held up a hand. "No, Sir Gulbrand. At least, we don't want to right at this moment."

The Master nodded curtly and turned to Viscus, who cleared his throat and met the stern gaze of his former mentor. "There was something I needed to speak with you about," the young man said, "I was hoping you may be able to make sense of it, as I'm neither sure of its significance nor what it means for me."

Gulbrand stepped back from the entrance and motioned one hand a couple of times towards himself, signaling to the boys that they were good to come in. They took the invitation, their old teacher closing the door behind them and showing them to the sofa in the living area while he took a seat in his recliner. It was a homey interior, with the various commodities of a modern house spread around, each corner set up to serve as one part of the whole. It was also very open, the entire cabin divided into only this room, a tapestry split down the center covering the entrance to the bedroom, and one other door that led to the bathroom.

After sitting down, Viscus started to recap the events of his vision in the most vivid detail he could muster. The fall into darkness, the appearance of the station and the voice of his heart prompting him to choose the objects were all nearly identical to his first Awakening, Gulbrand had deduced. The crumbling of the other pillars aside from Viscus' own was markedly different, however, as they had simply up and disappeared in the original version of the event. The most glaring disparity, however, had to be the likeness of the darkness within the boy's heart, which, aside from being composed of the same matter, was nothing like its first representation in either appearance or behavior. The fact that its own weapon had transformed into an inverted form of Viscus' Keyblade was even more of a mystery. But the boy made sure to add that he had defeated it in order to assuage any anxiety Gulbrand may have had, though the comment made little difference, if his mentor's darkened face was any indication.

Gulbrand breathed a heavy sigh and shut his eyes for a moment, rubbing his temple as he contemplated his former apprentice's story. "The old texts I've kept make rare mention of this sort of thing," he explained in a low, but still audible tone, "It's not uncommon for wielders to be able to dive into their heart both before and after their first Awakening, but this isn't quite the same. Typically, a second Awakening, upon its successful completion, confers the unlocking of greater potential in the heart. In some, this manifests as the ability to wield a second Keyblade without one being granted from another warrior. In others, it enhances a warrior's capabilities to a greater upper limitation, such as gaining access to vastly more powerful magic they would otherwise be unable to use or learn, or increasing their physical prowess even further beyond their natural limitations. At least a couple of sources state that it can instead serve to help the heart acclimate to greater concentrations of energy, becoming more accepting of light or more resistant to the effects of darkness, or vice versa, in the case of those whose inclinations follow the other path.

"Not that I can vouch for any of those in my own experience," he continued, opening his eyes as he rested his chin on one hand, "Nobody I know now, nor anyone I knew in the past ever went through one, myself included. So, if you're telling me the truth, Viscus, you're the first person I've met that has. And as for what exactly this entails for you, I honestly can't say unless your heart decides to reveal it."

Viscus nodded as he absorbed what he had been told, putting some thought into what exactly the trial he went through did for him. He did not gain access to a second Keyblade, nor did his arcane potential feel any stronger than it did before the occurrence. As far as he could tell, his heart was the same in its inclinations towards light and darkness as it was following his first Awakening, or at least, from a physical standpoint. Internally, he began to think over what he had been told before to see if perhaps he could find a clue. After more than a few moments of silence to ponder, though, he was beginning to conclude that it would take more than speculation to notice any changes. Before Viscus was allowed too much to himself, however, Verité moved the topic of discussion in a different direction, most likely due to the intense expression he saw on his friend's face.

"Well, not to be rude and interrupt Vic's thoughts," the brown-haired boy said, earning him a glare from the other teen, "but I had something I wanted to ask you as well, Sir Gulbrand."

The tall, blond man turned his gaze to his other former pupil and cocked his head quizzically to one side. "Hmm? What is it?"

"It's about that place that we went to once a year, back when we were still your apprentices," Verité began, giving his inquiry some ground before getting into the meat of it, "You know, the campsite that we stayed at in the mountains during summer breaks, always on the anniversary of the invasion of the Heartless. I figured that it must hold some significance, even if it's just for you, if you made it the one 'weekend' spot for us to get away from civilization and rough the elements. I'd be surprised if Viscus hasn't thought about it as well, but let me ask you anyway. What's so important about that place?"

Viscus had been ready to give his friend a tongue lashing before the question to Gulbrand had been posed. Now that it was in his mind, the darker-haired youth acknowledged that his friend was correct in assuming he was curious about that very same thing, but he had personally never pushed for an answer. He thought the relatively small mountain range just an hour outside of the town, and how it had been peculiar that, for a period during the three days of the invasion, that Heartless both went to and came from that area in droves. And how, even years after the event had ended, one particular section of the woods near the central peak had been rendered barren, and nothing had since grown at that spot. It was there that they had spent each and every annual camping trip, always on the date of the invasion and always for the whole duration. And it also had been that their training while out in the wilderness was even tougher, with the basic rigors of outdoor survival added to their already difficult regimen.

The silvery-eyed boy recalled that, on a few occasions when he had woken up during the night to relieve himself, he had found Gulbrand keeping watch, but with his gaze halfway between the woods and the solid rocky wall of the mountainside. The way his eyes would dart from one to the other and sometimes fixate on the latter would have given onlookers the suspicion that the Master was paranoid. Viscus (and he suspected Verité had also witnessed it) had stolen a small glance one night and could have sworn that he had seen what looked to be a door in the side of the rocky face. If that particular location was not so important, then Gulbrand would not have bothered to drag them out to that specific spot during what was one of the most difficult times of the year for both of the children. As important as it was for him to figure out what exactly his second Awakening had bestowed upon him, Viscus felt that this opportunity would be foolish to pass up. Just like his best friend beside him, he wanted some answers, for this mystery as well as others.

A heavy sigh came from Gulbrand, the man sitting up more attentively and crossing his arms as he looked over his former students. "There are more than a couple reasons for why I had us visit that place every time this date rolled around," he stated just loud enough to hear, "the first and probably most important being that that side of the mountain holds the door to the heart of Voluntas. You both became able to see and interact with it when you experienced your rather unorthodox Awakenings. As I've hammered into your brains time and again, worlds have hearts just as people do, and if they're consumed by darkness, then entire worlds fall into the shadow, along with anyone not strong enough to break free through will and strength of heart. Anyway, the second reason is that it was where Julius and I fought against the Master of Darkness that summoned the Heartless to this world. That patch of land where plants haven't grown since then is the scar our violent battle left behind.

"Third, it was where I made a vow in Julius' presence that I would stay and help this world to recover from its trauma," he resumed, the barest hint of a smile crossing his lips, "And while I didn't expect to take on an apprentice until I was older than I am now, you two just wouldn't leave me alone about wanting me to train you. If I recall correctly, I officially took you boys on as students at that very spot. And to think, it'll have been a year since Julius and I named you both Masters, again at that campsite. So yeah, it's got some real significance, both on a personal level, and on a level concerning your whole world. At the moment, the door is locked tight but is not forever sealed, so it is still in danger of being opened by those who would drown us in darkness. Fortunately, as things stand, the Heartless cannot force their way in without somebody clearing the way first. However, as I am not one who believes any one place is truly a sanctuary of safety, I feel it is now my duty to watch over that place more frequently, now that the two of you have come into your own as Masters."

Verité folded his arms and hummed softly as he digested the information, having had some of his suspicions put to rest. "Thank you for taking the time to tell us this, Sir Gulbrand," he commented appreciatively, "and for being honest about what it was that we saw."

"And even though I'm not much closer to finding out what this second Awakening exactly means for me," Viscus added, "you have my thanks for at least telling me that it is not unheard of and for providing me with any information at all. However, there is another matter that I feel you've been neglecting to talk to us about, though I'm partly at fault for not bringing it up sooner when I've had a few chances to ask."

Gulbrand shifted his eyes back towards the dark-haired boy and gazed at him with a serious expression. "Hmm, I imagine you're talking about the Rite of Blood?" he asked grimly, focusing on his former student intensely.

Viscus nodded slowly, the look in his old mentor's eyes intimidating him, but one would not be able to tell from his face and his posture. He had heard Gulbrand mention something by that name in the past few visits to his home, but the older man had always trailed off and dropped the subject, claiming that sparring and working on improving technique were more important tasks than discussing "ancient customs", as he had put it. Verité brought up asking their Master about it more than once, but to Viscus, the timing had never felt right. Today, however, especially after what had happened the previous night, the teenage boy wanted to know what it was that Gulbrand had been so hesitant to address.

"I guess you were gonna hear about it one way or another," the blond man said with a shrug, letting out an exasperated sigh as he relented to his former pupil's curiosity, "It's not something discussed often, even among Masters, but since you're both technically now my peers, you have the right to know. The Rite of Blood is a method of power transfer that was devised by our specific order of Keyblade Knights sometime after its foundation, which was, as far as accounts are concerned, long after the restructuring of the World after the Keyblade War's end. When a Keyblade Master or a wielder of sufficient strength of heart is on the verge of death, if another user happens to be within their proximity, then the dying can use the last of their strength to give that person their Keyblade as well as their abilities. However, the transference will only go through if the proper incantation is spoken while the two are in physical contact. It's been a closely guarded secret of our order since the technique's inception, though it hasn't been used for several generations, due to the questionable nature of putting it into practice and the potential for abusing it to gain immense power. If I were to perform the Rite on Verité, for instance, and then he did so on you, Viscus, then you'd receive both our weapons and all of our abilities, even ones that're known only to us. Your senses would be sharpened and you'd be much more mentally disciplined and experienced, but your actual physical strength wouldn't change unless you were using more than one Keyblade simultaneously. We can only imagine what might happen if such a thing were used for nefarious purposes. Nonetheless, it's custom to pass it on to future Masters on the off-chance that a situation that's truly dire enough to warrant using it may come about."

Each of the two young men exchanged a grim look, their minds processing the possibility of being able to use something like that. Their discomfort also came from imagining what kind of desperate scenario would prompt them to put it into practice. They had been taught that while Keyblade wielders were a cut above the rest in terms of strength, and that Masters were a level all on their own, there existed powerful beings other than just the Heartless and darkly-inclined Masters. The fact that Gulbrand spoke of them with a heavy air when asked, and his comment that the Rite of Blood was preserved just in case, made them realize that he was teaching them to always be wary of what they encountered. The universe was a vast and ambiguous place, after all, and no one could say for sure what the upper limit of power in individuals could be.

"There is another, somewhat related ability," the Master added, partly hoping to break the silence of his former pupils and partly because it was something that he felt needed to be mentioned, "but I'm a little foggy on the details and I wasn't instructed in its use, so I can't pass it on even if I wanted to. If you two are curious, then perhaps you can ask Julius about it the next time we see him. That's it on the Rite, though, not really much more to it than that. You two may be Masters, but I'm not too keen on giving teenagers knowledge of such a technique."

He then grinned in amusement. "I'd be more comfortable waiting until you two were older and less emotionally charged."

The boys chuckled at his comment, as truthful as it was, moving to get up and stretch their legs. Verité reached into one pocket and pulled out his cell phone to quickly check the time, perking a brow at the realization of how long they had been there. He flashed the screen to Viscus, who glanced over and nodded to his friend. It was now past noon and the two had earlier discussed their intention to head out and grab lunch around this time. While the lighter-haired youth was just about ready to run out the door, Viscus halted him for a moment while he retrieved his munny pouch from his left pocket.

"I'd like to treat him to lunch, Verité," he said back to his friend, counting the currency within before returning his attention to his old mentor, "That is, if you don't mind, S...Gulbrand. Think of it as us starting to pay you back for all the free meals you provided us when we were training with you."

Gulbrand blinked a few times as he processed what he just heard, before a jovial grin swept over his face and he let out a small bout of hearty laughter. "Viscus, even when you drop the honorific for me, you're still too polite. But hey, if you insist on buying me lunch, I don't think I can reasonably refuse that, although it's going to take more than just one outing to repay me for all the food I gave you two."

The trio summarily left the cabin, with the eldest of them making sure to lock up behind him before they continued onward. They were just about to reach the boundary of the forest when Verité caught sight of something in the corner of his eye. A small dark shape with a thin body, glowing yellow eyes and a pair of antennae was moving flat along the ground, its pace comparable to that of a man at full sprint. In an instant, the young man leapt towards the figure and summoned the same skeleton key-like weapon that Viscus had seen in his previous night's dream, bringing it down just as the creature gained more definition. The once two-dimensional thing exploded in a wisp of dark smoke before fading out completely, leaving no trace that it had ever been there. Though the immediate threat had been extinguished, Verité knew what he had seen boded ill for them. And his fears were confirmed as he looked further ahead and spotted yet more of the shadowy creatures shuffling through the brush.

Gulbrand swiveled about on his feet and turned towards the direction of the nearby mountain range, his own scythe-shaped Keyblade materializing in his left hand. "Boys, listen very carefully to me," he ordered, his tone darker than the young men had ever heard it, "The one scenario we've been preparing ourselves for years for may finally be upon us. I want the both of you to head back to your home and start gathering people for evacuation, just in case things start going south. Meanwhile, I'll head to the door of the world's heart and stave off anything that heads that way. Only come after me once everyone else is safe and loaded up into the ship."

-**Hurry**-

With reluctance, Viscus and Verité broke into a run back down the path they had used to come to the clearing, while Gulbrand hurriedly took off towards his destination, the woods around him blurring slightly due to his pace. He trusted the pair of teens to do as he said, but part of him insisted that he was tackling this ordeal alone because that was his way of lifting responsibility from their shoulders. It was he who had sworn before his best friend that he would do anything in his power to protect this world, and so he felt that it was his obligation to its denizens that he should combat any threat to it. Sure, the boys were ready for a fight, but too often had Gulbrand seen young Masters rush to their deaths because of the swelled heads they had gained from receiving that title.

Several minutes at full sprint passed before he finally came upon the slopes of the closest mountain in the range near his home. With agility that was inhumanly great, he bounded across a good amount of the incline until he reached the other side, rushing down until he came to the next peak's base and summarily repeating the process. Gulbrand continued this course of action until he came to his destination, coming to a stop at the rock face that held the door. Nothing had disturbed it since last he had checked up on it, his Keyblade confirming to him with its gentle glow that it was still locked. He scanned the area around and was somewhat puzzled to find no Heartless even remotely close to this location.

_Perhaps I beat them here_, he thought initially, but then he shook his head in dismissal at such an idea, _No. Nowadays, the Heartless are known to appear in almost any place instantly. The fact that there aren't any around means that they can't locate the heart of the world. The door is still locked, just as I left it, so they can't get inside even if they found it._

Despite these factors in place, Gulbrand could not shake the feeling that something was up. It was certainly possible that the Heartless might be more likely to go after the next largest source of light aside from the world's heart, and that was the hearts of many people. Yet, as much as he feared for Viscus and Verité, there was another troubling thought that came to mind. The previous attack had been set up by a Keyblade Master that had steered his talents towards darkness rather than light, and it was known that one who possessed sufficient control over such a power could summon Heartless into the Realm of Light. The presence of such creatures, even if he had only seen one so far, was indicative to Gulbrand that there was another such person attempting to overtake Voluntas in the same way that the previous threat had tried.

His senses on high alert, the Master turned his attention towards the woods near the mountainside, looking for any signs of movement other than the wildlife. Suddenly, a ball of black flame erupted from between the trees and hurtled towards him, but he readily brought up his weapon and deflected it to the side, the fiery orb impacting the stony cliff and leaving behind nothing more than a charred spot. Pointing the top of his Keyblade towards the forest, Gulbrand brought his other hand close to his chest, balling it into a fist to show that whatever it was that attacked him that he was not one to be trifled with.

"And here I was, thinking that it wouldn't be too much trouble to take care of someone who licks the boots of his almighty Light," came a mocking but clearly masculine voice from the trees, "At least it will be more entertaining a struggle than I had originally calculated."

From the edge of clearing came a figure that was garbed entirely in a grey trench coat with a prominent hood and long sleeves. It had a large golden zipper along its front and a pair of black drawstrings decorated with large golden beads hanging from the ends. The being appeared to be wearing white gloves and boots, the latter of which were barely visible under the hem of the coat. Expecting to see a face under the hood, Gulbrand instead spotted a plain bleached mask, devoid of any sorts of markings save for holes for the nose and eyes, which gleamed a menacing, almost feral amber orange. It was clear from the edges of the mask that it was fastened by strings around the person's face, so as to keep it from flying off in the event of sudden movements. It could not be more evident to Gulbrand that this person did not want to be identified, though the muffled voice did seem strangely familiar.

"You're the one who summoned the Heartless," the Master said as the mysterious figure approached him, "it really couldn't be any more obvious, given the way you dress and that tone you took with me. Something about you bugs me, though, and it's not the previous two things. I might just be asking a question you won't bother answering...but have we met?"

The masked person slowly halted in his tracks at the question, raising one arm and pointing it in Gulbrand's direction to challenge the Keyblade directed at him. "I was more expecting a 'who are you' sort of inquiry," the man stated forwardly, his voice holding a tinge of intrigue at the other fellow's reaction, "but just to give you a little closure before I send you off to meet your departed master, the answer is no. You and I have never personally met until this point, but I did know of you before now."

Gulbrand ignored what he believed were attempts to confuse him, not hesitating to leap forward and slash at the figure, grunting as he found his blade stopped by one that had suddenly appeared in his opponent's hand. Calling it a Keyblade would be accurate, but given its shape, even that was a little far-fetched. The weapon was long and coppery to the point it almost seemed rust-colored, possessing a dark and jagged handle guard, a serrated body, and a three-pronged head that was heavily reminiscent of a trident. The keychain that dangled from it was a rounded token that had an inlaid black image of what appeared to be tidal waves. The way his scythe edge had been caught gave Gulbrand a small fright, but he steeled his nerves and pulled it back and away, spinning his body to avoid a lunging jab from the points on the other Keyblade and stepping back to make some small distance between himself and his foe.

"Not going to fall for that either, I see," the robed figure taunted, bringing both of his hands to grasp at the handle, slightly tipping the end towards the Master, "You've got some quick reflexes and think pretty fast on your feet. It's a shame you threw your lot in with the wrong side, because I think you would have made a valuable ally if you'd chosen darkness instead. Seems you're content to die upholding such a ridiculous order, but don't feel too bad. I'll at least grant you the privilege of a warrior's demise."

The Master of Light gritted his teeth and creased his brow angrily. "You sure do like to hear yourself talk. You're just like the Master that tried to drown this world in darkness years and years ago. He didn't know when to shut the hell up about 'I'm powerful' this and 'darkness' that, and he ended up biting the dust. I'm already sick of chatting with you because of how much you remind me of him, so I'm just gonna beat the ever loving crap out of you now."

Gulbrand lifted his Keyblade up and behind his head, jumping forward and circling it about once before attempting to slash horizontally, but the mysterious person avoided the blow by ducking underneath the swing the instant before it would have connected. He retaliated with an upward sweep of his own weapon, which Gulbrand managed to dodge by stepping back and leaning slightly away from his foe. The Master's other hand stretched out and let loose a bolt of lightning that arced across the other blade and into the body of his enemy, who seemed momentarily stunned by the literal shock, but not long enough to be caught off-guard for Gulbrand's follow-up slice. Frustrated at the resilience of the figure, the veteran fighter accelerated off of his back foot and delivered a knee to the gut of his opponent, forcing air from the man and giving Gulbrand the opportunity to deliver the blunt side of his Keyblade to the guy's head. With a grunt of annoyance and presumably some pain, the robed warrior doubled back before mimicking the casting gesture the other man used, except that a ball of black fire erupted from his fingertips rather than electricity. Gulbrand casually swung his weapon upwards to deflect the energy sent his way, watching it crash and leave a dark mark on the side of the mountain nearby. In a flash, the other man seemed to vanish, but before the Master could get comfortable, his foe reappeared close to one side and above him, giving him barely enough time to leap out of the way of a strike that would have done a number on him, had it hit.

From that position, the masked man rushed forward after springing off his feet, a series of rapid-fire slashes raining down upon Gulbrand's weapon as he swung his own as though it were lighter than air. The Master found his feet being forced back across the dirt as he repelled the blows with his Keyblade, gritting his teeth at the sudden aggression he was facing. Another pivot of his body allowed Gulbrand to move aside and out of the way of the assault from his opponent, using the brief moment to swipe at the enemy, grinning when he heard the telltale sign of a sharp grunt of pain. The instant the robed figure clutched at the wound on his arm, Gulbrand moved in and proceeded to deck the man with his free hand, following this up by grabbing the edge of the hood to yank the guy's head down and slam it into his knee. To his astonishment, the Master saw the stranger jump back and level his weapon as though he had not been phased at all, though there was a telltale crack in the mask now around the bridge of the nose. Another thrust from Gulbrand with the tip of his blade struck at that exact spot, making the face covering fracture further until the crack reached the top and bottom of the mask. At that moment, the two halves fell away with a shake of the stranger's head, revealing the face of his opponent.

But before the Master could get a good look at it, the mysterious figure shot forward at blinding speed, the prongs on his weapon facing straight out in front. Gulbrand was hardly given enough time to dodge to the side, just barely avoiding the rush attack. Still distracted by the uncertain resemblance he could see in the stranger's face, the Master was unprepared for the 180 degree turn by his foe. The lapse in attention was adequate to allow the robed man to drive home his trident-like Keyblade into Gulbrand's right shoulder, a twisted smirk on his face as the Master shouted in pain and dropped his own weapon to the ground, the dirt clouding from the heavy object impacting the earth.

"You don't seem all there, Master of the Light," the other wielder said scornfully, "did my appearance really catch you off guard that much? Isn't it part of life's lessons to 'expect the unexpected' and be ready for anything? After all, one never knows what could be lurking in the shadows. It could be a harmless stray...or maybe a savage monster."

Gulbrand tore himself away from the impalement of his shoulder and grunted as his left hand swept up his Keyblade in a way that caused him to wince from the movement. "I'm more surprised that you can bite as well as you bark, really," he retorted, trying to not let his foe get to him, "Because in my experience, when a dog of the darkness bays in my direction, it usually doesn't get a chance to show me what its fangs can do."

"Is that right?" the other man asked, flashing him a toothy grin as if to mock the wordplay he had just heard, "Then let me humor you by remarking that you've only sampled a test nibble from this beast. You're no weakling by any stretch, but you're far from able to best me, especially with that wound. The next attack I land on you will be the one that ends you...though given your durability, I'd say you're not going to kick the bucket right away."

Snorting in dismissal of the claim, Gulbrand started to distance himself from the other fighter, the hand on his unharmed side raising his weapon into the air swiftly. "Heal-" he began to say, but his statement was cut short by the sudden thrust of his opponent's Keyblade straight through his chest, the sickening noise of steel piercing soft flesh filling his ears along with his own gasp of agony. It had happened so quickly that he did not even know the man had made his move until after the fact. Gulbrand once more dropped his Keyblade, clutching in horror at his wound after the man's weapon was torn away rather forcefully, his breathing coming at irregular intervals due to the damage done. He dropped down to his knees and soon after fell onto his less injured side, the other warrior standing over him with a victorious, albeit sadistic smile. But rather than go in for another strike, the figure pointed his Keyblade at the outline of the world's door in the mountainside and fired a beam of light from the center prong. The shape of a keyhole appeared in the rocky surface and the echo of a tumbler unlocking resounded through the air, the sound causing Gulbrand's heart to sink further than it already had.

"Did I not say that blow would end you?" he said with a smile that would freeze the blood of a natural-born killer, "you thought you could react quickly enough to avoid me and use a curative spell, but you judged incorrectly. It's just as well, though. Consider the end result your karmic reward for slaying my own Master all those years ago. Maybe those former apprentices of yours would be more agreeable if I offered them the same proposition I attempted to sway you with earlier. On the other hand, I think I'll wait until they grow a little bit stronger from the hardships they're about to face before considering them seriously.

"In the meantime, I'll wait in the shadows to watch as this world, along with many others, drowns in darkness," the stranger proclaimed ominously, one hand fishing into his robes to pull out another mask identical to the one he had on before.

Gulbrand felt himself collapsing onto the ground, his strength beginning to fail him, only able to watch as the foe that had bested him leapt up the side of the mountain and out of sight. "Damn it, I overestimated my chances," he groaned regretfully, one hand grabbing at his chest as he wheezed in his breathing, "Boys...I'm sorry that things turned out for the worst. Hurry and escape while you still can, if you have any sense in those heads of yours."

**-Inherit-**

The pair of teens bolted from the edge of the forest back into the cul-de-sac and were unsettled to see more Heartless than just the shadows they had been chasing. There were larger, more upright versions of the basic creatures they had seen, which sported longer antennae and had a more humanoid shape, as well as more fearsome looking eyes. There were black beings that vaguely resembled the mountain lions that sometimes wandered close to town, though their fangs were more pronounced, their bodies were bulkier and overall taller, their tails had a sickle-shaped tip, and they wore a curious emblem on their chests that appeared to be a red and black heart with a cross attached to the bottom, with crimson stitches in vein-like patterns set within the borders of the heart. Globular dark bodies with three whip-shaped appendages, gleaming eyes and a perpetual grin also accompanied them, floating about among their numbers.

Viscus and Verité split up to try and control the crowd of Heartless, each of them summoning their Keyblades and rushing through a few with a timely slash. The latter brought his weapon close and shifted its shape into a shield, just managing to block a swipe from one of the dark cougars and reflect the potential harm back onto it, causing it to explode into a black smoky cloud and release what seemed to be a heart into the air. Viscus slammed his own blade into the ground and jumped off of the handle, his hands moving out to point below him and let loose arcs of lightning from his fingertips, each bolt striking a member of the horde and causing them to vanish into dark wisps. Coming back down, he brought his heel against the handle of his Keyblade, causing it to flip up into the air and land into the opposite hand of the one he had been using before. Its top-heavy design allowed him to slam most Heartless into nothing with a downward swing, though its edge was also deceptively sharp, cleaving through the dark creatures with little effort.

Verité watched as more of them began to surround his friend, though Viscus was not impeded in the slightest by their efforts. The brown-haired boy trusted the other teenager to handle them and increased his distance, picking off stragglers that had taken to victims that were easier to subdue. He quickly made his way through the horde towards his own home, a pit forming in his stomach as he saw his parents backed into a corner by a handful of the cougar-like shapes. He switched his Keyblade from its shield form back into its regular shape and leapt forward, a single two-handed slash dispatching three of the creatures. Just as the others took notice of him, Verité brought his weapon down on the head of one, causing it to bow into the ground before being reduced to a freed heart. A quick turn and a stab made the remaining Heartless suffer the same fate as the rest, Verité keeping tense as he brought his Keyblade close once more. Taking a few moments to look around, he determined no others were in the immediate vicinity and relaxed to help his parents calm down.

"Mom, Dad, listen to me," he said hurriedly, as he was painfully aware that they would not be rid of company for long, "we have to get the Gummi ship. We need to fit as many people as possible, along with the most necessary articles, onto that thing. I'll hold off the Heartless on the way there while you get in and start it up, then I'll go back to help Vic and we'll bring the others."

It had been during the examination for the Mark of Mastery that Gulbrand's longtime friend and fellow Master, Julius, had instructed Verité's father in the construction and operation of a Gummi ship, as he had arrived on their world in his own. Previously, he and Gulbrand had come to Voluntas through teleportation magic that had been lent to them by their own Master. However, this had not been utilized since Julius' return to his home world after the invasion, as it was a great strain on their aging mentor to allow them to bypass the boundaries of other worlds. Of course, gathering the materials had required the men to attend a number of meteor showers and track where the Star Shards, what the component Gummis were sometimes called, had landed. It also helped that a good amount was lying around due to past showers. Verité was thankful for their efforts, and that his father had shared his knowledge of how to work the thing, as the ship now seemed to be their only ticket to surviving this new onslaught.

Though still shaken by what had nearly happened to them, Verité's parents nodded quickly in understanding of his plan and moved to exit their house with their son, who kept close behind them with his Keyblade at the ready. They were harassed a number of times on their way towards the clearing in the woods where the craft was kept, Verité ruthlessly cutting down any of the beasts that dared to approach them. Viscus, meanwhile, had eased his way towards the other homes while he broke through the crowd of Heartless. At the same time, he was trying to keep their attention focused on him, as the Keyblade was a natural attractor of their kind and he hoped that it would be enough to draw them to him. Many of his neighbors watching from safety were stunned by his display, for this was the first time the majority of them had actually seen him brandish his weapon, due to the discretion that Gulbrand demanded of his pupils and for the fact that there had been no real Heartless threat in over a decade.

The young man spotted some of his similarly aged friends who had gotten closer to the action, shaking his head at what he personally believed a poor choice. Regardless of how much he wanted to smack his forehead, he rushed over and swung his blade down into the pavement near the monsters. Jagged columns of earth impaled the Heartless that were just out of reach of the other boys, startling the group from the sudden upending of the ground. Viscus just as quickly herded them back towards their houses and relayed the need to get only the most necessary things for an evacuation, a stern expression on his face wordlessly warning them not to get mixed up again. He returned to the circle and focused more of his efforts on dispatching the creatures and coaxing them to go after him. Although it had seemed to be working, and while a sizeable figure had been eliminated, almost every time he turned around, there were more of the dark beings than there had been before. While he was hardly growing tired from the conflict, Viscus knew that it would be difficult to attend to everyone while Verité was escorting his parents.

He suddenly noticed a small family of three that seemed trapped inside a circle of the Heartless, and he feared that he would not make it with his path blocked by so many more. Desperately, he swung his Keyblade into the crowd and fired off a few more bolts of lightning, but more of the things would replace the fallen and cause him to be held up. Just as the fiends leapt towards the helpless people, a barrier composed of translucent hexagons was erected around them, and the moment the Heartless struck at it, there was a brief flash. It then exploded outward into sickles of light and wiped the offending creatures away, as well as any others that had been near enough to even touch the violent reaction. Verité momentarily landed next to the startled folks and Viscus let out a breath of relief at his friend's timely entrance.

"Thanks for the save!" he shouted appreciatively over to the other teen, who flashed him a thumbs up to both confirm they were okay and to let him know that his family successfully got where they needed to go.

As if on cue, a large green flying craft roughly in the shape of a fighter jet came into view over the center of the lot. Verité waved his arms up at the ship to direct it towards his position and began to back away towards the sidewalk in order to get himself clear. After doing the same, Viscus watched as the aircraft's bottom side opened a few hatches, but rather than the landing stabilizers he expected to see, a handful of weapon barrels appeared instead, each trained on the mass of Heartless below. Looking over and thinking to ask what was going on, Viscus noticed that Verité's expression betrayed just as much confusion. The armaments on their escape vehicle summarily unleashed a hail of lasers that caused the boys to dive for cover, as not all of the shots had fired with perfect accuracy. They noted that while it was true that Heartless were almost immune to typical weapons, the matter the ship was made out of and the energy it used as ammunition were far from conventional. And so, as a result, the barrage easily tore through their ranks, the asphalt of the circle becoming charred and cracked from the powerful blasts as the Heartless numbers rapidly dwindled.

It took little time for the cul-de-sac to be cleared away, though the ground was certainly scarred by the bombardment. Deciding to put this little matter of trigger-happy behavior from his father under the table, Verité and Viscus went from door to door, each gathering up the neighbors and bringing them out to the ship, which had come to a landing not long after they started herding everyone towards the center of the area. Each of the boys also took time to run into their own home and began to scavenge nonperishables, water, and only an armful of clothes and their closest possessions. For Viscus, that included the picture of his family, as it was the only copy of the photo he possessed. Verité took a little extra time in grabbing a few of his parents' things as well, one bag slung over his shoulder which contained their clothes and his. With everything they needed, the teens ran outside and jumped into the Gummi ship through the open bay door.

After taking two head counts and determining that there was only room for one more person aboard, Verité quickly displaced his father from the pilot's chair and began to hurriedly check the instruments so that they could take off as quickly as possible. Readjusting the cabin pressure once the door was sealed came first, then the oxygen levels for when they made their long voyage, though they would have to be examined again once they acquired their last passenger. Weapon reserves were checked twice on each turret to gain an idea of which might run out first in the event they had to use them again. And once everything was squared away, Verité swiveled his chair around to face the understandably nervous people aboard.

"Alright, I need everybody to get in their seats and fasten their safety bindings!" he called out commandingly to the small crowd within the confines of the Gummi ship.

Viscus hopped into the seat next to his friend and strapped himself in once he made sure that everyone else had done so. "Let's go get Sir Gulbrand. We're just one person short of the maximum capacity, and I'll not leave him behind if I can help it."

Verité nodded grimly, sharing his fellow Master's sentiment. He turned back around to alter the settings on the ship's propulsion and direct it to perform a vertical takeoff. Aside from the occasional dip in position as it rose into the air, the ascension had seemed almost as though the Gummi ship was not moving at all, which some of the passengers were thankful for. Once the craft had reached a sufficient cruising altitude, Verité engaged the rear thrusters to propel them towards the mountains, the pair of teens almost slammed into their seat backs by the sudden and immense acceleration. The two young men in front were rather surprised at how much distance they were covering in such a short span of time, arriving at the peak nearest to their town in less than half a minute. Verité hastily disengaged the rear thrusters and applied the front ones for but a few moments in order to slow them down, nearly slamming his head against the console from the rapid decline in speed and causing everyone else to lurch in their seats. Complaints about potential whiplash aside, everybody seemed to be alright, and the two pilots eased the ship into moving far more slowly than before. Admittedly, the two had gone over the directions many times, but this was their first instance of actually flying the Gummi ship, and so they had expected a bit of a bumpy ride.

A gentle tilt on the steering device allowed them to coast down towards the valleys that ran between the mountains, each of the boys on the lookout for the bare patch of land that gave away the location of the world's door. It was more of a task to find it from the air, as they were viewing from a different perspective than normal and the ground was pretty far beneath them. Eventually, though, they spotted the area and descended down until they were just above the top of the tree line of the nearby forest, keeping the Gummi ship in an idle hover with the bottom jets close to the side of the mountain. Viscus undid his restraints and moved towards the exit hatch, prying it open after some effort and leaping out of the door to the rocky surface of the mountain near them, leaving those near the opening a bit startled from the strong winds produced by their altitude and the thrusters of the aircraft. His legs moved partly of their own accord as he went running down the incline, summoning his Keyblade to help control his speed. Once near the bottom, he jumped to face sideways along the mountainside and skidded down towards the dirt, the weathered rock keeping him from sliding too quickly.

It was then that he spotted the prone form of his former Master, whose only sign of movement was the ragged breathing that caused his body to rise and fall. Dread filled Viscus as he bolted towards Gulbrand, quickly coming to kneel at his side and using both arms to slip under the man's chest and flip him onto his back. He almost immediately regretted the action, as the blond-haired Master convulsed and went into a fit of coughs that forced up a bit of his own blood, and the teenager could not help but grimace in both disgust and worry as he spotted the deep gash in the man's chest from his earlier fight. Shaking away the guilt at aggravating the injuries to focus on the present, Viscus knelt closer to his teacher, fishing into one of his pockets to retrieve a small vial.

"My god, Sir Gulbrand!" he cried out, his voice shaking from worry, his hands trembling as he tried to open the container in his hands, "Don't worry, I'll fix you up really quick with this potion and then I can get you out of here! Verité's father can be co-pilot while I tend to your wounds after that!"

But before he could get the bottle fully uncorked, Viscus found the wrist of one of his hands suddenly grabbed by his old mentor, a pleading look in those green eyes. "It's too late for that," he rasped weakly, another spasm of coughs hitting him as he struggled to continue speaking, releasing his grip from his student's wrist, "no amount of attention, medical or magical, can save me now...take my hand, boy."

"Master...there has to be something-"

"Damn it, Viscus Leto!" he yelled, clutching at his chest with his free hand painfully, "I literally don't have time for this. I didn't think it'd come to this...but the Rite is needed, boy, and I've chosen you to be the recipient. You and Verité have to watch your backs...a new Master of Darkness has shown himself. He's so much stronger than the one I faced, it's not even comparable. My power and my weapon will pass to you, but I'm doubtful on whether they'll be enough. You have to find Julius and tell him what's happened...he'll assist you in any way he can, believe me.

"Now, take hold of my hand, kid," he uttered hoarsely, his voice now barely above a mumble.

Despite all the painful feelings coursing through him, Viscus respectfully did as his Master had told him to. Gulbrand closed his eyes gently and started to speak an incantation that Viscus could only assume was forbidden to recite seriously in all but the most desperate of times.

"In your hands from my own, I give to you my life, and my battle-forged edge to overcome strife. Though my body shall fade and my heart soon set free, my Keyblade shall be bequeathed unto you from me. The darkness I kept hidden and the light that I wore, shall be yours to know and bear along with much more. While my time is at an end, your path has just begun, and my spirit shall aid you until your work is done."

With those last words spoken, the body of Gulbrand gave out one final shudder, drawing in one last gasping breath before slowly falling limp, the grip of the hand that Viscus held giving out so that only he was keeping it level. Lowering his arm to bring his Master's hand across his chest, the boy gritted his teeth and choked back a sob, though he could not stop the water that formed in the corners of his eyes. His pain was momentarily distracted when Gulbrand's body began to give off a faint glow, which only intensified as the seemingly endless and painful moments passed by. To the teen who had just witnessed his Master's death, it was a rather interesting and strangely comforting sight. And just as the scintillation reached its brightest and most intense, the Master's form seemingly began to melt away, transforming from a solid shape into a dark and unstable mass. Viscus could only watch in horror and strongly renewed grief as that grotesque image broke down further and further until it was a blackened puddle on the ground, which summarily evaporated into dark wisps of smoke. In his now vacant hand, the young man found himself holding what had once been his mentor's Keyblade, his other hand moving to trace a couple fingers gingerly over its form.

All of a sudden, a flood of emotions filled him, though he did his best to keep them in check as he tried to measure the rush of power that now coursed through his body. He shut his eyes both in sadness and in an attempt to concentrate on the energies that began to occupy his heart. Viscus found himself looking into the world he had seen in his dream, but the sense of touch he felt was still that of reality. The jarring blur of what was real and what was perceived caused him to groan as his mind tried to make sense of the conflict. In the darkness surrounding the "pillar", words began to float freely and appear as if from nowhere. Most confusing was that Viscus found himself able to hear them, and it was in a tone that he instantly recognized.

_How could such a monster exist? He's worse than that fiend all those years ago! And to humble me and strike me down as though I were nothing...how lamentable! What is the source of his power? Is his darkness truly so disturbingly deep that it can grant him such might? How, then, has his heart not been consumed by its shadow? Is it possible that he IS a Heartless? To think I'll die without avenging myself and knowing the answers to these damn questions!_

What Viscus believed to be the final thoughts of his former Master all echoed inside of him, a pain seizing his chest and causing him to clench at it with his unoccupied hand. All at once, an anger and hatred not his own coursed through his mind. Such feelings, when they were his own, were no stranger to him, but these were immensely pronounced, and their intensity was so great that he could swear he was being physically clawed at from the inside. His teachings urged him to let them flow through him but to not allow them to take control, for that, he had been told, was what allowed darkness to eventually overtake someone. The sudden imbalance he felt between the light and darkness within him lead him to realize that although Gulbrand was a strong advocate of the light, the Master's heart had a deep and terrible shadow. Perhaps, he thought to himself, the injury from this Master of Darkness and the negative emotions boiling within his teacher had nearly driven the now deceased man into becoming a Heartless, and the Rite had been the only way to guarantee preventing that from happening. It was just a theory grasping at straws, but Viscus did not want to consider the possibility that that had been the fate that awaited Gulbrand regardless of his actions.

"Viscus, are you okay?"

The youth was shaken out of his contemplation, peering upwards and once more seeing the real world around him, the visions of the dream-like place in his heart having faded after opening his eyes. Verité was no doubt concerned at how long he was taking, but it was not until Viscus had risen to his feet that he learned just how much his friend had seen and that the voice he had heard moments ago belonged to him.

"I saw the whole thing," Verité said over the loudspeakers, talking into a mic that he kept near the control panel, pain clearly evident in his voice, "I'm really sad he's gone, too. And while I hate to sound like mourning him isn't important, we have to get out of here. Gulbrand would want us to live another day and not let ourselves get dragged into a battle we'd eventually lose. You understand, right? We can always come back for the world when we're stronger, since the door to its heart is still locked."

Viscus rose to both feet, though his head was still hung heavily. He had to concede to his friend's words, or at least he would have if he did not notice the gleam in the mountainside out of the corner of his eyes. The door had become an archway of light and in its center was a black keyhole, something he was more than certain had not been there before. Viscus' sadness was replaced by fear as the gravity of the situation struck him. He knew that a world's door could only be unlocked by either the person who originally closed it or by someone who had a more powerful heart than the former. And since Gulbrand would not willingly undo his seal in light of the current invasion, this indeed confirmed that someone stronger had forced it open. There would be no world to come back to if he left it as it was.

Raising Gulbrand's Keyblade in one hand, Viscus readied himself to aim it towards the keyhole, but was surprised when his own weapon appeared in his other. Wielding more than one was not unheard of, as his mentor had informed him of such earlier that day. But he had assumed that the Rite would merely allow him to use his former Master's weapon in place of his own when he needed to. His mind shook off the shock as he reminded himself of what was at stake, now bringing both Keyblades to point towards the door to the world's heart. A sphere of light traced its shape and solidified in the air around the tips of the weapons, energy gathering towards the center of them and then releasing itself as a concentrated beam. But it had not gone even halfway before something came hurtling down into the ground in front of the door, which appeared to the boy to be like a trident in shape. A visible pulse of darkness from the object shook the air and formed into a black wall which completely deflected the ray of light away from reaching its intended destination.

"I see coming back wasn't such a paranoid idea after all!" exclaimed a voice that Viscus was certain he had not heard before.

Looking up, he saw a masked man in a silver robe, whose appearance struck a chord of recognition in the part of himself he had inherited from Gulbrand. "My heart is brimming with anger that isn't mine from your appearance here. Is it possible that you are the Master of Darkness that Gulbrand had mentioned?"

"Ah, so that was the warrior's name," the figure mumbled, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he fully turned his attention to the boy, "In all honesty, yes, your gut instinct is right about me being that same person. By the way, I notice that you also have that man's Keyblade in your possession. How did you come to be able to use it? It was my understanding that most wielders can only use one Keyblade and could change its form, yet you have two entirely unique ones. And what exactly did you mean by 'anger that isn't yours'?"

Viscus' brow twisted into a scowl as he brought both of his weapons close to him in a defensive posture. "It's not for those outside of our order to know, especially not someone like you, who would no doubt use it for selfish gain."

"Well, I see it's useless to pry," the stranger said, shaking his head in disappointment, "all the same, I can't let you lock the door here. I really don't want to get rid of you either, though, so if you wouldn't mind making this easier, don't bother trying to get through me to the keyhole. It would be a lot less painful if you just went back to your ship with your little friend."

The black-haired teenager tightened the grip on his Keyblades, the foreign rage within him pleading to let loose on the man. But the rational part of him was hesitant, recalling that Gulbrand had mentioned doubt in the combined power of their Keyblades being adequate for such a strong opponent. And at the same time, Viscus knew that by turning away or prolonging this confrontation, he was allowing the Heartless more time to locate the door, and given that it was now wide open, they would be upon it soon enough. Reckless as it was, he took a step forward and pointed his own weapon in the direction of the stranger. In response, the robed man extended his left arm out to one side, and in another pulse of darkness similar to the one from moments before, the trident-like Keyblade disappeared from the ground and rematerialized into his hand.

"You won't go quietly then?" he asked Viscus, who shook his head just slightly enough for him to notice. Eliciting a sigh of frustration, the man brought up his Keyblade into a battle-ready stance. "And here I was thinking you'd make a more reasonable decision. Seems whatever bit of power you took from that man also made you headstrong. Don't think I'll play around with you like I did him, though."

Viscus dug one of his heels into the dirt and shoved off into a blinding dash, twisting his body so that both of his weapons slashed outward in a whirlwind motion the moment he was right in front of his foe. The figure flipped his Keyblade down and held it fast in both hands in order to guard against the attack, sparks flying from metal clashing against metal. The boy jumped away just in time to avoid an upward retaliatory slash, the prongs of the trident barely missing the edge of his nose. Viscus flipped backwards in the air and landed in a crouch, crossing his weapons across one another to block a down strike from the man. The three blades shook and noisily clattered together as both parties struggled to overtake each other, the younger warrior feeling his arms start to bend further as the older one continued to push. Viscus muttered lowly to himself and his boots glowed a faint violet before suddenly lifting him from the dirt, forcing the man in front of him to break out of the lock and ready himself for another strike. The teen extended his fingers from the handle of his Keyblades, three large pieces of ice flying towards the one in the robe, though each of them was blocked or cleaved in turn and did little more than serve as a distraction. The man's free hand shot forward and unleashed a ball of black fire that hurtled towards Viscus, its path curving as the young man tried to leap to one side. He swung his Master's Keyblade and caused the dark orb to dissipate, twirling both the weapons about and changing his stance so that one arm was raised above his head and the other was closer to his waist, one blade aimed at the enemy while the other crossed over his abdomen defensively.

In the Gummi ship, Verité nervously watched the battle over one of the visual monitors just above the console's controls. The stranger's movement seemed to charge headlong towards Viscus before suddenly dropping away and reappearing through dark portals, as if he were tearing into the fabric of space itself to get around. With every attack, his friend's reflexes narrowly allowed him to escape intact, though Verité knew that such aggression was to force him into a position from which he could not go on the offensive. At points, the mysterious figure slashed at the air with his Keyblade and shadowy blades would "fire" from the arc of the swings with a width just as great as the entire motion. Other times, he would drive his free hand into the ground and bits of the earth would rise or attempt to stab at his smaller opponent. It was clear to the observing Verité that the man was very experienced, judging from how calmly his motions were being performed compared to Viscus' more frantic avoidance and countering of the attacks that came his way. He wanted to help from up there, but at the same time, he knew that there was a very real risk of his friend getting hit by the laser cannons if he used those. Verité could only watch, his hands increasing their grip on the steering device.

"Vic, I hate to say it, but this guy looks to be too much," he murmured grimly, "Gulbrand was right when he warned us to be wary of those who come from outside our world. I only hope you make it back to the ship before things get out of hand."

Viscus was daunted by what was occurring, as the longer the battle went on, the more ferocious the assault from his foe became. The other man's Keyblade was flung at the boy's feet, the prongs burrowing into the ground from the force of the throw. Erratic bolts of black and purple energy lashed out from the embedded weapon, the ground singed where it struck and sections of nearby trees shattered into splinters. The debris forced Viscus to fully focus on avoiding the blasts and shrapnel, and so he was unaware of his opponent appearing close by after a number of near-misses. Thus, he was unprepared to take a blow to the gut from one of the man's fists, the wind painfully knocked out of him. The strike sent him tumbling through the air until he was directly above the dark Master's Keyblade, where a concentration of multiple rays of energy fired up into Viscus. The boy could only scream out in agony as he was launched further upwards by the surge, his vision blurring until he could only see stars.

His body fell against the ground as it continued its passage from the earlier hit, both Keyblades fading away into sparks of light as he lost consciousness from the combined pain of all the punishment he took. The robed man dismissed his own weapon from sight, bringing both hands together and pointing his index fingers to a space close to Viscus. A dark and ovular field of energy formed from the ground up to roughly his own height, tendrils of shadow spreading over the base of it and flickering in the air like smoke trails. The figure proceeded over to the prone form of Viscus and lifted him by the collar of his mantle with a single hand, tilting his hooded head in what seemed to be curiosity as he studied the boy. With a light grunt, he tossed Viscus towards the energy field, the body seeming to vanish as if hurtling down a lightless pit. The stranger took the time to have one last look back at the edges of the forest, a quiet and sinister chuckle escaping from him as he spotted the forms of Heartless moving in the sea of trees towards the door to the world's heart. He proceeded through the shadowy construct, and as soon as he too disappeared, the oval momentarily collapsed inward and then blinked out of existence.

Verité was not sure how to react to what he had seen. Very faintly, he had made out on the camera that Viscus had still been breathing when he had been held up by the masked man. It was confirmation that his friend was at least alive, but then there was the matter of what that vortex exactly was. If the man had not also stepped through it, Verité would have assumed it to be a way of eliminating Viscus. And with the Heartless fast approaching the world's door, he was at a loss of what to do. And it was during his pause that his father's hands came over his own, trembling from what Verité could only imagine to be sadness, and helped him to guide the ship skyward. With the airlock once more locked tight, the Gummi ship fired its rear thrusters to full blast and streaked into the space beyond the world. As the people looked back upon the rapidly shrinking Voluntas, its atmosphere darkened steadily and the landmasses began become engulfed in what could only be described as liquid shadow. Slowly it crept over the surface until the entire world was wholly encased within the black mass, the umbral matter seeming to almost drip into space from the planet.

A massive point in space was torn open, the sight beyond the fracture a darkness deeper than the vastest celestial void. Into this hole the world of Voluntas was drawn, as was any other object that happened to be too close. Once the planet had completely passed into the tear, it sealed itself back up as though an invisible needle had sewn its area of space shut. Verité and the rest were thankful that they had managed to pass beyond its influence, but there was another matter to consider now that they were out of harm's way. Where would they settle now that there was no Voluntas to return to? On Verité's mind, there was the question of what had happened to Viscus and the unknown man, and beyond that, how he could ever find them. The universe was a dismally and incomprehensibly huge place, and part of his heart despaired at the infinitesimal possibility of reuniting with his friend.


	2. 1A: Unfamiliar Faces and Foreign Places

**Chapter 1, Side A: Unfamiliar Faces and Foreign Places**

Viscus groaned as a dull ache that resonated through his entire body shook him from unconsciousness, his eyes gently starting to flutter open as he searched for the strength to will himself fully awake. He almost immediately regretted it due to the near-blinding sunlight that filled his vision, causing him to quickly move one hand to shield his face, though that action too caused a surge of pain to shoot up his arm. He could not remember the last time he had been so sore, though he could recall what had caused this instance. At the realization of the most recent events, he swiftly brought himself to sit upright, cursing under his breath as his body painfully protested. Doing his best to ignore the aching that constantly gnawed at him, Viscus slowly tilted the bottom of his hand upward so that he could get a good look at his surroundings.

Rolling hills of verdant grass surrounded him on all sides, stretching as far as the eye could see from where he was sitting. Small clusters of brush and leafy trees dotted the landscape, and patches of blue and orange wildflowers gave diversity to the color of the fields. There were no mountains to speak of and the mysterious figure he had seen when he was last awake was nowhere to be found. However, the humming and buzzing of cicadas was prominent in the air, as were the chirps of various songbirds, with the occasional calls of numerous small mammals joining in as well. It was the sort of scene that reminded Viscus of the countryside that his family had sometimes taken a retreat to when he was younger. At the same time, it drove the point home that he was no longer where he had once been, and given that the pain he felt was indeed quite real, it was safe to assume he was neither dead nor dreaming.

He dipped his head lowly as he considered these things, a melancholic sigh escaping from his lips. _Well, isn't this fantastic?_ he thought to himself in bitter sarcasm, _I have no idea where I am and the guy who brought me here is gone. Not only that, but he dominated the battle when I tried to fight him. As far as things seem to be going, my world is probably gone, swallowed up by the darkness. Of course, I can't know that for sure, and I should probably try to find a place around here that has other people. That's assuming this is one of those worlds where other people can be found._

As painful as it was, Viscus willed himself to get to his feet, groaning in frustration as he heard a telltale rip in fabric. Looking down, he saw that his clothes were riddled with holes, presumably from the last attack he had taken before losing consciousness. His skin was red and nearly raw where those openings showed, though there were also blackened patches and bruises along his arms, and from what he could feel after an experimental running of his hand along his collar bone, over his neck and shoulders as well. Some of his wounds were a little more serious, as evidenced by the light yet consistent bleeding in a few notable lacerations. Viscus shuddered at the image forming in his head of just how wrecked he must have looked. He brought his hands together and attempted to call upon the arcane essence in his body to help him recuperate, but nothing came. The teenager groaned out dismally at this, knowing that it could only mean that he was tapped out and that he had not had enough time to replenish his reserves even during his knockout spell. Gently, he began to trudge his way across the fields, but every step he took renewed the fiery soreness and pain in his legs, causing him to have difficulty walking straight. Frequently, he found himself having to stop and take a brisk rest before continuing on, much to his annoyance.

Hunger and thirst brought about a different kind of irritation, both in his dry throat and in his empty stomach. Viscus remembered that he had not eaten or drank anything since the meager breakfast he had had at Verité's home, and it was clear that more than enough time had passed for the natural pangs to rear their heads once more. They added to the fatigue he was already experiencing, making his body heavier with each passing moment. The teen knew that only his will to hang on and pray that somebody was nearby kept him going. And deep down, part of him hoped that Verité and the others would find him.

After what seemed like hours of trekking, Viscus cleared another hill and spotted a single one-story house nestled in a small group of trees. Its color was mostly varying shades of a woody brown, the surface indicative that it had been constructed from several types of lumber, while the slanted roof was grey and metallic. It sported a mottled white stone chimney on one side, which currently seemed inactive as far as smoke output was concerned. A set of three steps led up to a solid white door, which Viscus could only assume to be the front entrance. From his view, the teenager could only spot a few windows, all of which had blinds on the inside that prevented him from seeing inside the structure. All in all, it looked rather homey, and in a way, reminded Viscus very much of the cabin that his parents had once owned in his younger years.

Mustering up the strength to keep moving and doing his best to fight against the debilitating pain that shot through his nerves, the young man approached the house. He stumbled forward after getting to the last step, putting both hands out in front of him to help break his fall. Sharp pain spiked through his hands and up his arms, the boy biting his lip to hold back an agonized cry. Shakily raising one hand to the door, he gave a few firm knocks, wincing with each rap against it. Viscus took heavy breaths as he waited for a response, and he was fortunate that it came a short time later. The front opened slowly, revealing a tall figure behind it. It was a man with short brown hair and fair skin, sporting a slightly chiseled jawline that was complimented by a goatee that matched his hair. His eyes were a deep ocean blue and were framed by a pair of caramel-colored tortoise shell glasses, seeming to gaze in surprise at the person on his doorstep. The frame on the man was well-built and sturdy, garbed in a sienna coat and pair of pants, with gloves and boots to match. After a few moments of examination, Viscus immediately recognized the fellow.

"S-sir Julius, is that you?" he asked weakly, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

The man's eyes lit up with concern after recognizing the youth before him. "Viscus!" he exclaimed incredulously, "By gods, you look positively horrible, lad! Let's get you inside and fix you up this instant!"

Hardly one to object, Viscus allowed one of his arms to drape over Julius' shoulders while the man fixed one around his waist, helping him walk and swiftly closing the door behind him. The interior living room had snowy white walls, mahogany hardwood floors, and a modest set of furniture consisting of a rustic red sofa, a glass coffee table, a black reclining chair and a fair-sized television set on top of a white, cabinet-style stand. From what Viscus could see, there was also an open entry into a kitchen and several doors that he assumed led to various other rooms. But he was not given much more time to look before he was eased into laying down upon the couch, Julius propping one of the arm cushions under his head to help keep it level. The older man then reached into one of his coat pockets and pulled out a vial of blue fluid, removing the cork and gently bringing the mouth of the bottle to Viscus' lips.

"Drink this, my boy," he said softly, tipping the contents upward so that they could flow smoothly into the teen's waiting mouth.

Viscus contorted his face in disgust once the liquid hit his tongue, but he fought against the urge to send it back up. In the past, he had only drunk potions when he was exhausted and sore from training regimens. Though it had an enticing and sweet appearance, the taste was notably bitter, which, along with its syrupy texture, was something that he never cared for and was sure most other people disliked as well. However, the pain he was feeling in the moment helped to distract him from what his tongue was picking up, allowing him to tolerate the substance more than he normally would be able to. With every light swallow, the cool contents oozed down his throat and into his gut, and a strange but familiar warmth began to gradually spread throughout his body. When the last drop had passed his lips, the welts and sores across his skin started to fade and mend themselves before his eyes, and the aches began to finally die down. However, his flesh could not close up entirely in the case where his wounds were more severe, leaving scarred tissue where the healing was left incomplete. Despite this, enough of his strength had returned to allow him to comfortably get up and swing his legs around so that he could sit more presentably in the presence of his impromptu host.

"I'm sorry to come to your door unannounced and ragged," Viscus said embarrassedly to the other Master, tilting his face away.

Julius shook his head and took a seat next to the boy, placing the now empty bottle on the table in front of them. "I will admit that I was surprised to see you here on my home world, especially considering you have never left your own. But, there is no need for you to apologize for bothering me for help. You are a fellow Master, but I would like to think that you are also a friend, just as Gulbrand and Verité are. Speaking of those two, I am curious as to why they are not here with you now. Did something happen on Voluntas?"

"It's a long story," the teen said gloomily, his eyes turning down at the inquiry, "and I hope you have the time to listen, because there are some things that are going to be difficult for me to say. Just a fair warning, it might be just as hard for you to hear them."

Viscus began his tale by first bringing up the second Awakening that he had experienced not too long before, about the things he saw within it and his clash against his inner darkness. Without skipping a beat, the boy then told Julius that he and Verité had gone to visit Gulbrand to seek answers not just for that event, but for a couple of other choice topics, and how that discussion had moved onto the subject of the heart of the world and the Rite of Blood. He spoke of the encounter with the Heartless in the woods and how the three Masters had split up to deal with the threat, elaborating on the fight he and his friend had engaged in against the horde of darkness. Viscus talked about how they had gathered as many townsfolk as they could into the Gummi ship and then had set out to look for Gulbrand. It was there that he stopped short and bit his lip, the memory still painful for him to recollect.

Julius was rapt with attention at everything he was hearing, though he maintained a grim look about his face to show that he understood the seriousness of the story. It was evident to him that the further along the young former pupil of his friend went, the more visibly he began to tremble and shake. As curious as he was to know what happened next, there was no clearer sign that bad news was in store than the body language Viscus was displaying to him. He held out one hand and gave the boy a pat on the shoulder as he went to prepare some hot tea and fetch some bread, as the older Master felt that it would be best if he got something to help ease the boy's nerves. While the drink did not change Viscus' disposition, his body did seem to calm down enough for him to stop quivering. He took in a deep breath and exhaled heavily, slowly tilting his head up and clutching the teacup tightly in his hands.

"When we arrived at the mountain where the door to Voluntas' heart was," he said sullenly as he resumed the story, "I jumped out of the ship and made my way down the cliff side. At the bottom of the slope, I found Sir Gulbrand lying on the ground, mortally wounded by the one who had unleashed the Heartless. I wanted to tend to him, but he would not allow me, telling me it was already too late to make a difference in his condition. He spoke his last words to me and told me to search for you, before he performed the Rite of Blood and then fell limp in my grip as the life left him. Not long afterward, his body slowly faded away and the emotions he must have felt in his final moments flowed into me."

To prove his words, Viscus summoned the Keyblade of his deceased Master into his hand, looking over it sadly as he allowed Julius to examine it. The man brought one hand to cover over his mouth and gently shut his eyes, the boy next to him turning away as he spotted tears in the corners of those orbs. Viscus was aware that the friendship between Julius and Gulbrand was one that was all too similar to the one he had with Verité. His former teacher had related to him that the two were no older than he currently was when they had become the understudies of their own respective Master, and considering how long it had been since then, they had a lot of history between them. He could tell that the older man was holding back a flood of emotions for the sake of keeping composure, and it pained him to see such a strong and respectable figure show this sort of reaction. As depressed as he was about the recent events, Viscus was still dealing with the shock of it all, and while he could sympathize with the older man, he could not imagine how deeply it truly affected Julius. He also could not bear to tell the Master how Gulbrand's body had actually gone, both because it would have brought even more pain to the elder and he himself was still having difficulty believing what he had seen.

So, for at least a little bit, the boy had resolved to sit quietly and take the occasional bit of food and drink to help curb his need for satiation. Several minutes passed by as the youth waited until Julius had dried his eyes and was ready to listen again before continuing where he left off. Viscus put away Gulbrand's weapon and said that after his mentor's passing, he had noticed the door to the world's heart had been unlocked and soon came face-to-face with the one responsible for it. Despite the added abilities afforded to him by the acquisition of his teacher's weapon, he told Julius that he had been unable to fight the stranger on even grounds and that it was because of this that he ended up with the injuries he had been sporting when he had arrived on this world. He explained that, having been unconscious prior to crossing over, he had no idea how he had ended up here and that he had wandered around until stumbling upon the present Master's home. Having come full circle to the present, Viscus allowed himself to finish the nourishments that had been provided to him, his eyes once more turning to Julius, awaiting a response.

"It is truly heartrending to hear of my dear friend's demise," the brown-haired man said, taking the time to remove his glasses with one hand and rub the back of the other across his eyes, "And as much as I want the time to properly grieve, there is a much more pressing matter at hand, Viscus. This Master of Darkness that you mentioned has me worried, not just from his sheer power, but his continuation of the goal the Master before him had set out to accomplish as well. Who's to say that your world was the only one both of them had targeted for their shadowy designs? And I believe, though this is merely speculation on my part, that he has plans for you. Otherwise, don't you think he would have simply gotten rid of you when he had the chance? And then there's the fact you ended up here, of all places. It's more likely than not that he is already aware of this world and its residents, meaning that he could strike at any time, if he so desired."

Viscus had to agree that it did seem odd that the man he had fought had given him the ultimatum of leaving his world rather than engaging him. Given the evident gap in their power, the boy knew that he could have been finished off easily, and yet that did not happen. What was clear was that the stranger was certainly a threat to the sanctity of other worlds. As one who had been trained in order to help keep the peace in times of need, Viscus felt this was something he could not permit. The issue, however, remained in that he had no reliable way of transporting himself without a Gummi ship. And even if he did, he worried for Julius' safety, though in truth, he had no idea how skilled and strong the older Master really was. However, he knew that there was a way to get around, as he was certain that Gulbrand and his friend had managed it in the past.

The young man's train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and a voice calling to the man of the house. "Dad, we're back from sparring practice!"

"Oh my, is it that time already?" Julius said, half to himself and half to the one that had addressed him, the weariness on his face gently dissipating as he picked up the sound of footsteps.

Viscus looked up and watched as two figures came into the living room, one a young woman and the other a young man, each looking to be around his age. The former, aside from her gender and her body type, was the spitting image of Julius, having the same shade of brown in her shoulder-length hair, light and fair skin, and a pair of blue eyes as dark as his own. Her face was gently rounded in shape, her lips neither overly full nor thin, and her nose petite and placed in a symmetrically sound position. She was dressed in a pair of casual blue jeans and a modest green T-shirt, brown hiking shoes covering her feet and a simple silver chain hanging about her neck. The other was markedly different, as his skin was a touch paler, the locks upon his head short and grey, and his eyes were so dark a shade of brown, they seemed to suck in the light around his face. His face bore small hints of masculinity rather than overt qualities, giving it a slightly softer appearance than what was typical for a boy his age. He too wore denim, but the pair was light black in color, and his shirt was much like Viscus' own in both its hue and its size. White shoes were his footwear of choice, and a simple star-shaped stud was affixed into each of his ears.

Both of them directed their attention towards Viscus to study him for a moment before the girl turned to Julius. "Oh, I wasn't aware that we were expecting guests," she said, one of her thin eyebrows raised in interest, "Is he a friend of yours, Dad?"

Julius chuckled warmly and nodded affirmatively to her. "Yes, and one I've been meaning for you to meet for a while now. Viscus, I'd like to introduce you to my daughter, Elea. The boy next to her is her cousin and my nephew, Salvatore," he said, pausing for a moment to once more face towards his guest and gesture towards him with an upturned palm, "Elea, Salvatore, this is Viscus Leto, one of the former apprentices of my friend and peer, Gulbrand. We named him a Master not too long ago alongside his own friend, Verité Capto, whom I'm sure you will meet in time."

Salvatore scanned over Viscus with an expression that gave the impression he was skeptical of the claim. The look in his eyes was one that rubbed the other boy in an uncomfortable way, and in his personal experience, that was indicative of a future relationship riddled with difficulty. "Forgive me for harboring doubt at your declaration, Uncle Julius," the grey-haired youth remarked, his tone calm and almost icy, "but he seems a little young to be one. Were you and Gulbrand not a bit further along in your years before you become Masters yourselves?"

Julius nodded, acknowledging that the teen was indeed correct. "Yes, we were just blossoming into the middle of early adulthood, dear nephew. However, Viscus here had begun his training at a much earlier age than Gulbrand and I. To be honest, I was initially against my peer taking on someone so young, but he quickly proved to me that any misgivings I had were unfounded. It was his and Verité's performance and determination at such a tender time in their lives that led me to making the decision to bring you and Elea into the fold. Trust me when I say that the two of us deliberated for quite a while before we made the final decision to accept them as equals."

"Yeah, Sal," Elea chimed in cheerfully, attempting to lighten the mood, "Dad wouldn't just name any kid off the street a Master. And besides, we've probably been preparing for our Mark of Mastery just as hard as they did. It's only a matter of time before we catch up and become everyone's peers!"

From the way they spoke so casually about it, Viscus had no doubt that they were up and coming apprentices themselves. Julius had mentioned to him during his own exam that he had taken on his own students not long after he and Verité had been accepted by Gulbrand, but he had never imagined that said wielders-in-training were members of Julius' own family. He questioned how the man had time to educate and provide for them, as it was no doubt exhausting being both a father and a mentor. A small part of Viscus wondered where Elea's mother was, as he had not seen her when he was brought in, nor had Julius mentioned anything about her. He had his own theories as to why this may be, a couple of which were tough to think about, given his own history. For now, he figured it was better to not ask any potentially uncomfortable questions and that the introductions should be followed up.

The young woman beat him to the punch, smiling and bowing with her hands folded in front of her. "It's a pleasure to meet another Master besides my father and Gulbrand. Though, it does feel a little strange referring to someone my age as 'Master Viscus', I'll admit."

"Just Viscus or 'Vic' is fine, as I'm not used to having honorifics applied to my name," he said humbly as he stood up, one arm laid over his chest as he returned the bow, "And it's nice to make your acquaintance, Elea. You as well, Salvatore."

The other young man gave a curt nod to acknowledge the greeting, but did not bother to respond with any introduction of his own. Instead, he simply moved towards one of the doors and went into whatever room was there, firmly shutting the way behind him. An awkward silence fell over the room as everyone else kept their lips tightly sealed, unsure of what to say. The sounds of items being shuffled around and haphazardly handled came from where Salvatore had gone, and they were quite plain to hear. As loud as they were, though, they could sense that there was no rage or frustration behind them. Viscus twiddled his thumbs as he wondered what had been going through Salvatore's head at the mention of him being a Master. Whether it was envy, disdain or some other feeling was uncertain, but in any case, he clearly did not seem pleased.

Elea made to do the same as her cousin had, quietly making her way over to what Viscus perceived to be her bedroom. She turned to her father and his friend, politely waving to them as if to excuse herself from the uncomfortably quiet living area. Giving a shrug, Julius massaged the bridge of his nose between his fingers and let out a sigh. As courteous as she was, he knew that Elea was not one who enjoyed entertaining guests, especially when they could realistically be in the same class as her. His exasperation was more reserved for Salvatore, however. "That boy," he muttered, "he always gets so discouraged whenever he meets someone more experienced in one of his passions."

"What do you mean by that?" Viscus asked curiously as he returned to his seat, being able to just barely pick up on the words the other person had spoken.

"Oh, don't take his actions as a sign that he doesn't like you, my boy," the older Master said reassuringly, clearing his throat and taking a breath to give his guest his undivided attention, now that they were alone, "but to answer your question, you have to first understand that Salvatore's home life is rather dreary. His mother is more keen on criticizing his achievements than giving him the praise he rightfully deserves. His father, my brother, is almost never around to care for him due to being a night owl, meaning he works overnight and then sleeps during a good portion of the day. To help him focus better on his studies and on improving his physical fitness, as well as get away from the harsh criticism of his mother, I took him on as an apprentice and I invite him over here every chance he can get. Even so, adjusting has been a slow and difficult process for him, and the incessant undermining of his efforts he experiences at home pushes him to try so much harder than he really needs to."

Viscus nodded solemnly as he took all of this in. "Well, I hope my being here hasn't upset him too badly, sir."

"I pray for his sake that you are right," Julius replied, "I'm sorry for dragging you into my family's drama, Viscus, but I felt that you needed to know so that you would not judge Salvatore too harshly from your first impression of him. Perhaps you can get to know him and my daughter a little better later on."

The younger Master nodded in understanding, one hand moving to stroke at his chin as he pondered what to do next, especially now that the atmosphere had become a tad heavy. "I am curious about one thing, Sir Julius. Earlier, you said that other worlds could be in danger, likely due to the Master of Darkness being able to seemingly freely travel from one to another. Is there any possible way for me to reach those worlds without going to trouble of asking you for your ship?"

"Viscus, there are, unfortunately, very few ways to traverse the cosmos aside from Gummi ship travel," Julius replied grimly. After a few moments, though, a glimmer showed in his eyes as if he had just hit upon a realization, the man striking the bottom of one fist against the upturned palm of his other hand. "However, it should be no issue to aid you in this endeavor if I make use of a bit of my talent! Come with me to the fields outside and I will enlighten you."

The two stood up from the sofa and began to make their way towards the front door, with Julius opening the way for them, waiting until his guest had stepped out before closing the door behind him. Viscus remembered that he had been told by Gulbrand once that when he and his friend had arrived on Voluntas, it had been through other means than the one afforded to them in recent years, due to the fact that Gummi ships did not yet exist then. The now deceased Master had related that it had been due to Julius' powerful magic afforded to him by his Keyblade that they had been able to arrive when they did. Because Gulbrand had been brought up to be a more physical combatant, he had been unable to harness the necessary arcane energy required for the spell Julius could wield, and so, when he had elected to stay on Voluntas following the first Heartless invasion, he had known that it meant he would be stuck there. Viscus admired his mentor's choice, though he wished that things had not turned out the way they had. But on the other hand, he figured that if Gulbrand had not stayed, then any defense against the second invasion would have been utterly hopeless, and he and Verité would have been helpless against the Heartless and their new commanding figure.

Refocusing on where exactly there were going, the young man realized that the two of them had not traveled very far at all. Just past a hill located behind Julius' estate was a shallow puddle of water encircled by a dozen fist-sized stones, each nearly as round as a baseball and as smooth as glass. The space could be occupied comfortably by two people, perhaps three if they remained stiff as a board. Viscus was about to ask what its significance was, but his mental question was cut short as Julius summoned his Keyblade. It was the same staff-like weapon he had seen depicted in one of the stained glass murals within his second Awakening, although its appearance seemed much more brilliant in the waking world than it did on the image. Waving and twirling it in one hand, the Master brought the tip skyward and began to chant quietly, his eyes focused on the pool before them. The familiar beam of light that the Keyblade was known for releasing shot upward into the air before sharply curving down and firing straight into the center of the body of water. Its surface gave off an opaque white gleam, and a gentle breeze came rising up from the puddle, billowing outward in every direction.

"This is a teleportation circle," Julius explained, "there is one in every world that still exists within the Realm of Light and the Realm of In-Between. As for where exactly on those worlds they are located, I know only a few for certain. I have been keeping myself from using them in lieu of my Gummi ship unless it is absolutely necessary. This is due in part to the fact that their activation, despite being visible only to those near enough, creates a reaction that almost anyone sensitive to arcane energy can pick up on, which runs the risk of attracting unwanted attention. I would also advise you to be cautious when choosing to travel by this method, because for all you know, you could pop up in the middle of a big city and cause quite a stir."

The older Master reached into one of his coat pockets and fished around for something for a few moments. Viscus saw him retrieve what appeared to be a rather short necklace, the string holding it together a solid black in color. And on the end of it was a silver diamond-shaped slab with a round, sapphire blue stone set within its center. Julius handed it off to the boy and motioned for him to put it on, the young man quickly obliging. Once that was done, the bespectacled man traced two of his fingers along the edges of the diamond, Viscus watching with wonder as the gem started to fill with a similar light to that of the teleportation circle. Within its glow, he could scarcely make out the number "4", though he was unsure of its significance. Afterwards, Julius guided him to stand within the center of the pool and wait for further instruction. The Master then dismissed his Keyblade and stood firmly before the lad he had entrusted with the necklace.

"Now, listen well, Viscus, because there are a number of things you need to know before you leave," he said with a serious tone, "And please bear with me, as the explanation is a bit lengthy. That jewel will allow you to access the other worlds' points without need for my assistance, but it is not without limitation. It has a finite number of 'charges', with one being expended each time you travel from one world to another. As you may have guessed, that number within the light is the amount of remaining uses it can afford you, so I advise you to return to this world if you need me to replenish them. To make sure that you can come back without fail when that need arises, remember the name 'Tranquil Fields' and picture this place in your head when you are making use of a circle. Keep in mind that as long as you are aware of a circle's location and have it on your mind when using the jewel, you can transport yourself to it without issue, no matter where in the two Realms you may be. However, if you use the necklace without thinking or knowing the name of a destination, you will appear in the closest place to your current position. An exception to this is if you _are_ aware of a place and choose to deliberately bypass it, in which case you will show up in the next closest world.

"Should you enter a world and its heart feels you would be better suited for another form so as to best aid it," he continued, momentarily pausing to make sure that the boy was getting all this and only resuming once he got an affirmative bob of the head, "then the arcane reserves within that object will have you automatically assume it, thankfully without consuming a charge, and it will be safely stored away in an extradimensional space until you come in contact with the world's teleportation point. As for why it can change you without using up the energy needed for transport, it is because that was its original purpose. Eventually, I devised a way to have it store the necessary concentration required to make use of the circles so that I would not have to use my Keyblade every time, and thus it better allowed me to keep my identity as an off-worlder and a key bearer a secret. Anyway, if such a transformation is not necessary, it will remain on you where it is now and you will have to be vigilant to make sure that you do not lose it. I have no idea how many worlds in the former camp exist, so be prepared for anything. When you are ready, take the gem in hand and say these words: 'Deliver me across time and space to where I am needed.' When traveling to a specific world, the same phrase applies, but substitute 'where I am needed' for the name of the place associated with that world."

Viscus nodded to confirm that he grasped everything he had been told. He was a little hesitant at going through with this, as he knew that he would be blindly stumbling about the cosmos. There was also the issue that his ability to jump from world to world was limited, and that if he did not remember to come back every once in a while, he would be stranded out there and Julius would have no idea where to find him. And woe to him if that happened while he was on a world where he would be forced to change form, since he would probably have to get used to that state for the rest of his life. No matter what, though, he was determined to find Verité, and if he had to search every world in the cosmos, then that is what he would do.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling to help dispel the anxiety he was feeling, the young man did as he was instructed and grasped the stone upon the necklace in his left hand. "Deliver me across time and space to where I am needed!" he shouted.

The water suddenly swirled violently around his feet and the light from the puddle intensified to the point where the edges of the pool created a visible border. His clothes began to be thrown about as if a powerful windstorm were blowing against him, and the sensation of being stretched out started to fill every inch of his body. Viscus grunted and closed his eyes, further shielding them with his free arm as the brightness became almost blinding. And then, just like that, the light faded and he disappeared from Julius' sight. The Master laid one hand over his heart and allowed the barest hint of a warm smile to cross his lips.

"Godspeed, my friend," he whispered hopefully.

-**Prepare**-

In a distant land dominated by sprawling green savannah, a sizeable gorge and a few bodies of water, there was a dark stretch of barren, rocky wastes and jagged cliffs littered with the skeletons of long-deceased animals, perpetually covered in fog and shadow even as the setting sun brightly illuminated the rest of the surrounding areas. It was upon one of the many crags that a solitary lion was peering down into the lower reaches, where clouds of steam and vapor constantly billowed upward from geysers and gaseous vents. The feline sported a pale grey coat that ran over every inch of his form save for his luxurious mane, his nose, whiskers, the underside of his paws, the tuft of his tail, and his muzzle, which were all an obsidian black except for the lattermost, which was a stark and snowy white. His eyes were a bright yellow, which seemed to glow in the low light of the surrounding area, and his pearly white fangs blended in well with the lips that framed them. The lion's body was large and robust, more comparable in bulk to that of a tiger, but still sporting the height and length typical of his own species.

Below his position, he was focused on another big cat of his kind, but this one was markedly different in both color and build, except for its similar dark mane and tail tuft. The rest of his body was a rich golden brown, though his muzzle, underbelly and digits were much creamier. His eyes were dark around the sockets, much like his mane, while the orbs themselves had bright yellow sclera that framed neon green eyes. Around the left of these was a thin patch of bare skin, indicative of a long scar. The fur on his chin was scruffy, seeming to form a goatee, and his build was a fair amount lankier and overall smaller than the one observing him. He was conversing with three grey and black spotted hyenas that stood by on the floor of the expanse, one of which was marginally larger than the other two with distinctive bangs over its face, another that had a face with more masculine qualities, and the third being similar to the second with the exception of crazed eyes and a perpetually silly grin, its tongue lolling out of one side of its muzzle.

Curious as to what they could be speaking about, the monochrome big cat bounded down to another outcropping, lowering himself down near the edge and cocking his ear towards the group. Bits and pieces of whatever it was they were discussing floated up to him, but not enough to make an educated guess, and so he jumped down to yet another ledge. It was there that he finally managed, albeit just barely, was able to pick up the conversation over the hissing of the steam.

"...but while it is true that the boy is now the heir apparent," the scarred lion said, almost spitting in contempt as those last two words came out, "I will not sit idly by and bemoan my lost right to the throne. I will have my nephew killed and, of course, shall do so in such a way as to deflect suspicion away from myself. Perhaps make it look like an accident, but having a third party dispose of him would work just as well."

The largest of the hyenas chuckled in dark amusement and flashed him a hungry grin. "And I'm guessing that's where we'd come in?"

"If I should I go with that option," the feline affirmed with an equally evil smirk, "which, depending on the child's inquisitive and vexatious nature, may very well end up being the case."

As the four shared a laugh, their watcher grinned wickedly at this prospect. Here was the soul he had been searching for, whose heart was filled with tremendous jealousy and spite. And what was even better to the silvery lion was that the other feline was willing to murder his own kin just for a reign that would be all too brief in the eyes of longer-lived beings. Seeing such darkness in another was delightful to him, and the fact that it seemed as though the smaller male relished the very idea of this misdeed made it all the better. He made up his mind then and there that he would have to make himself known. And so he did, leaping down to the knoll upon which the other big cat stood, who whirled about in surprise at the sight of another, much larger male.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" he demanded, crouching low to the rocky surface and slowly extending his claws, a nasty scowl on his face.

The bigger lion stepped forward, not intimidated in the slightest by the threatening gesture. "Now, there is no need to be so hostile, Prince Taka. Or would you prefer to be called Scar, since you seem to be resigned to that moniker following the acquisition of your namesake?"

Scar's expression shrank from anger to horror as he was addressed by his birth name, which no one had used to refer to him in years. Even more frightening was that it was coming from an individual whom he was absolutely certain he had never met before. And then there was the implication that this lion knew how he came to be called his current alias. He retracted his claws and stood up a bit more, attempting to maintain a composed front. "How is it that you-"

"Know these things about you?" the grey feline said, finishing the other's thoughts, "I have peered into the matters of the Pride Lands from time to time ever since you and your brother were but mewling cubs. And while I may be an odd sight in this place, I feel it is only fair to warn you that this will not be your last encounter with a stranger in these parts."

Scar raised one of his dark brows quizzically at the ominous message, his curiosity piqued. "Explain."

"Gladly," the other lion replied, a knowing smirk crossing his features, "you will find an animal that is quite rare in these lands very soon. I, personally, encourage you to follow through with your little assassination plot. However, the one who shall arrive will not be so keen on this, and he will most likely attempt to thwart your efforts. Do not let his appearance deceive you, Scar, because like you, he is more powerful than his looks would let on. And as for how strong he really is...well, if you were to face him in battle, you would not come out the victor."

The wiry cat narrowed his eyes, suspicious of both this stranger and what he had to say. "I see, then I will have to be vigilant. By the way, you never answered my questions before."

"You may refer to me as Nuru," replied the larger lion, turning his back on Scar, "and as for what I want, it really is quite simple: to have you steep this land in darkness. Should you require my assistance for this task, I will be happy to lend you some help. But know that it shall be indirect, for I do not wish to dirty my paws personally, nor do I want others to discover me."

With that, Nuru took his leave, scaling back up the same spires he had descended with bounds that demonstrated his own strength quite visibly. Once he was up high enough, he cast a look back into the deeps and saw that Scar had returned to speaking with the trio of hyenas. His gaze lingered for a few moments to make sure that the scrawnier lion was not keeping an eye on him before he moved further away. At the very top of the cliffs, he strode over to the other side and quickly worked his way down to the vast fields of elephant bone that awaited him. They rattled noisily as his paws tread over them, moving up into a sprint so as to gain some distance. There was nothing quite like the feeling of remains being crushed underfoot, though Nuru ran not out of fear, but a need to be alone. The top of the sun was now dipping under the horizon, leaving only the barest traces of red and orange in the rapidly darkening sky.

The moment he was able to find a secluded spot on the plains, he paused and laid flat upon the ground, one paw moving up to one of his ears. There was a small metallic device fixed just inside of it, and he prodded around for a few moments before locating a switch and flipping it with one of his retractable claws. Immediately, his hearing was assaulted by crackling static, though it cleared up momentarily. Soon, it was silent once more, save for a nearly imperceptible ringing that was subsequently drowned out by a calm and smooth, masculine voice.

"I received the feedback of your conversation, 'Nuru'," it said to him, the sounds of calculated typing against the surface of a keyboard following his comment, "And using your communication signal, I've marked the coordinates of that world upon the map of the universe you provided. Well done."

Nuru grinned and let his chest rumble in contentment. "I hardly did any work at all. All the same, the information I have given you should prove more useful when you decide to expand outward from your current world. Recall what I told you but a day before?"

"Of course," the one on the other side replied, no hints of doubt or offense in its tone, "I've always suspected there were other realms beyond the one I live in, and I'm grateful for the many pieces of proof. I look forward to having more visitors from the stars. Should I send you a small force to help expedite your operation there?"

The lion chuckled and hummed thoughtfully. "Mm, not just yet. I want my young friend I spoke of before to arrive first. I will wait and see what he does before deciding whether or not that course of action will be necessary."

"Very well, I will be in touch if you need anything else."

Nuru turned off the communicator and yawned widely, folding his forelimbs over one another and resting his head down on top of them. It had been an eventful day, and he figured now was as good a time as any to rest. Just as his eyes began to close, however, he picked up a faint glow from in the direction of the nearest watering hole. A malicious grin crossed his muzzle, knowing that it could only mean one thing. "Hmm, a little earlier than I expected."

-**Change**-

Viscus felt himself floating in air, a bit dazed by the sensation he had just gone through. But he was given no time to savor it before he plunged into a pool much larger and significantly deeper than the one he had left. His instincts told him to paddle for the shore, but his limbs felt strange, and so he began to panic as he felt even heavier underwater than he had when he was dry. Fortunately, he managed to reach the edge of the water, pulling himself up onto land and panting heavily as he took in some much needed air. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Viscus picked himself up and firmly stood on all four of his feet. It did not take long for him to realize what was wrong with that process. He spun around and nearly tripped on himself, discovering that, for the first time in his life, he had paws. That and he smelled very strange, especially given that he was sopping wet. Viscus shook himself off without any thought and it felt as though several pounds had been lifted from him, but then he thought about how he had never done that before when he was drenched.

Trotting over to the edge of the water, Viscus waited until the last ripples of his recent disturbance died down before peering into the surface, the now rapidly fading daylight providing just enough illumination for him to see. His face had formed into a short and triangular black muzzle, while his ears, which were just as dark, had become sharp very large and wide, and had moved high up on his head. His legs had become thinner than they were before, with the back pair feeling noticeably shorter and causing his back to slope down. At the end of each of his rough-padded digits was a blunt claw, which he tested and found to be strong after an experimental drag in the dirt. Viscus noticed that the rest of his fur was a dirty greyish-brown with rows of black stripes, and that a long mane, its hairs white at the base and black at the tips, ran from the back of his head all the way to the base of his new and similarly patterned tail. From these observations, it was clear to Viscus that he had become a striped hyena.

Curious as to what he was still capable of, Viscus concentrated his thoughts on summoning his Keyblade, which subsequently appeared with the handle in his mouth, stretching his jaws rather uncomfortably. He tried to swing his head around, but found that his new anatomy imposed negligibly less restriction on its movement than when he had been human. He tested a second approach by sprinting a short distance and only lightly flicking his neck, which he reasoned could work against Heartless, but would not fare well against things more his size and larger unless he struck them in a sensitive spot. Sighing at how useless a weapon seemed in this body, he dismissed it and attempted to focus a spell instead. He was satisfied when he managed to produce a spear of ice that flew into a nearby rock and actually managed to break it to pieces.

_Magic and my new fangs and claws will have to carry me through this_, he thought, _and then there's the matter of providing for myself as well. If I remember correctly, striped hyenas are scavengers, but they can also run down certain animals if they need to. Fresh source of water is right here, so that won't be a problem. Shelter might be an issue, though, especially considering I don't know what's out here and what the weather could be like. Living like this for a little bit is going to be pretty awkward at first._

And while Viscus contemplated how he was going to tackle the coming days in this strange new world, he suddenly felt a cold shudder run down his spine, looking around suspiciously. His sharp vision allowed him to see further in the dark than before, but he was unable to pick up anything with his eyes. He swiveled his ears about and took a few deep whiffs, but no sounds or scents out of the ordinary were present. The feeling of being watched was neither new nor pleasant to him, but his senses were not telling him to back down. Whatever was keeping an eye on him was doing just that and nothing more, from what his instincts were telling him. At this rate, if it persisted through the evening, then Viscus knew that he was definitely not going to get much sleep, if any at all. His stomach rumbled noisily and he growled right back at it, moving off to find himself something palatable, the feeling staying with him all the while.

/\

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Post-Story Notes: From here until near the end of the overarching plot, the narrative of each chapter will be split between two different perspectives. These will be formatted in such a way as "Chapter 1, Side A: X" and "Chapter 1, Side B: Y" to indicate that both tales will be occurring at roughly the same time. As Viscus was the center focus for Side A, expect it to return to Verité's point of view in Side B to see what was going on with him while this was happening. Chapter lengths will be notably shorter for now to balance out the fact that the story will be hopping around between two different characters.


	3. 1B: Adjusting to New Culture

**Chapter 1, Side B: Adjusting to New Culture**

Verité slowly opened his eyes as his mother's voice gently called out to him, rousing him from what felt like barely any sleep. The young man yawned and stretched out to try and better wake himself up, grunting as he felt a few joints click rather noisily and uncomfortably, peering over to one side as he felt a soft and sandy-colored blanket that had been draped around his shoulders fall down. It took him a moment to realize that it was the same one that had been a part of his bedspread back on Voluntas, which caused his mood to sink a bit. He remembered how Viscus had attempted to fight against the mysterious figure near the door to the world's heart and subsequently failed to defeat him, disappearing through what he could only assume to be some sort of portal. For a while after the survivors' escape, the teen had only thought about how he could have stopped Viscus. And even if he could not, he still felt guilty about leaving him to the mercy of that man and wondered where he could have gone now that he had disappeared. And during that time, he had eventually just shut down, leaving his father to take over piloting the Gummi ship while his mother had fished out one of his few remaining articles and stayed with him as she tried to ease him to rest after such a stressful experience. Truthfully, he had not needed much coaxing, but he appreciated her efforts all the same.

After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Verité stood up and made his way over to the co-pilot seat at the front of the craft. Once settled into the chair, he took a quick scan of the systems, making mental notes about how it had been more than a day since they had left the atmosphere of their former world, how much energy the ship had left to run on, as well as the efficiency of oxygen recycling. Fortunately, it seemed that everything was in working order and because of the velocity they had gained during their flight from Voluntas, they had used very little fuel since then and were now coasting at a steady, albeit very rapid trajectory through space. He turned to look over at his father, who was maintaining the course and only occasionally tilting the steering controls one way and another whenever he felt the need to. The man whom the boy had inherited many of his features from had dark circles under his eyes, evidence that he had gone for quite some time without sleep. Verité sighed and put one hand on the right arm of his dad, expressing some concern.

"_Papà_," he said to him, "I can take over from here."

The older fellow quietly shook his head, showing the same sort of stubbornness that the boy himself occasionally displayed. "No, my son, I am still quite capable of directing this vessel. Just let me home in on this signature I have located, and once we have arrived at its coordinates, I will allow you to do the rest."

"Signature? You mean to say that you've already found a planet similar to our own?" Verité asked with a surprised expression.

His father nodded firmly. "I have. I ran a search through the star system analyzer Julius had pointed out to me when last I had met with him, and I was able to locate a world where humans are the dominant species and have a level of technological prowess similar to ours, though it is a decade or so behind if these figures are to be believed. We are actually very close, relatively speaking, and at the speed we are going, it will take little time to get there. My primary concern, Verité, is whether it would be wise to reveal ourselves and the Gummi ship, or if we should lay low."

"That's a good point to consider," the young man mumbled, his brow creasing as he thought of the potential consequences of just landing in the middle of a city, "On one hand, we might get unwanted attention from authority figures, assuming their government is similar enough to the one we had. But on the other, we have a cargo of people who aren't well adapted to living in situations that lack the modern comforts we're used to, and our food and water can last us maybe a few more days at most. And that's not even getting into the other factors that're likely present. I'd really like to stick by the whole non-interference clause and keeping the fact we're from another world secret...but how much of a choice do we really have?"

The older man said nothing more, merely returning his attention to the front of the ship. Verité took this as a sign of him communicating that such worries would be handled when they arrived, sighing in frustration and folding his arms up on the console to rest his head. He could hear the murmur of others gathered in the hull deliberating about the best course of action, some erring on the side of caution while others were advocating for a straight drop into civilized territory. Their volume started to grow as disagreements were fostered, and it all threatened to give him a headache. The only alleviation he had from it was his mother bringing him a bottle of water and running a hand gently through his hair. Taking his mind off of the bickering among the other passengers for the time being, he sat up and lifted the water to his head to cool off, huffing quietly out of his nose before twisting off the cap and taking a few swigs of the cool and refreshing contents. Closing the bottle back up, he sat back in his seat and shut his eyes contemplatively.

It was at that point that Verité reflected on the other results that had come from the crowd's most recent experiences. His former Master had been dying and chose to entrust his weapon to Viscus during his final moments using the Rite of Blood. Despite Gulbrand having warned them that it was something that was only to be used in the direst circumstances, he had gone ahead and performed it, though the young man really could not blame him for doing so. He wondered whether the knowledge of the Rite was passed on as well, or if Julius, and possibly his apprentices, were the only ones left that they knew of that could execute it. His thoughts once more turned to Viscus, curious as to where that dark portal had taken him. Perhaps the figure had abducted him in hopes of extracting the secret of the Rite, or worse yet, intended to force Viscus to use it on him. But if that were true, Verité reasoned that he would have just gotten it over with earlier on instead of choosing to remove the teen from the scene. As much as he wanted to go out and find the guy to make him cough up answers, the young man knew that attending to the survivors was his first priority. Besides, he had absolutely no idea where to look for the figure in the first place.

After keeping a vigilant watch on the viewing screen for a good stretch, Verité's father turned his gaze down to the positioning system when it let out a loud ping. The numbers indicating his distance to the destination began to rapidly decrease, prompting him to adjust the front thrusters in order to gradually slow down the Gummi ship. After several minutes of gradual deceleration, the world that Mr. Capto had spoken of earlier appeared in the image on the monitor, steadily looming closer to them as they approached. It appeared to be a watery blue sphere, with many fragments and some occasional massive stretches of glacial white in the northernmost and southernmost regions, and varying shades of dirty brown, rusty red, verdant green, and sandy yellow on the remainder of the visible landmasses. A large silvery moon maintained a gentle orbit around the planet, and it was on approach to this world that the Gummi ship came to a complete halt some hundreds of miles above the natural satellite's rear surface. Verité nodded and turned to face the rest of the crowd, some of whom were just starting to awaken and wondering why they had stopped.

"Assuming they have observational equipment like our world did," the young man said, "Then we're probably safe from prying eyes for the time being. That being said, if we're going to survive this ordeal, then we're going to have to go down to the surface, as we don't have the luxury of waiting until everyone's backs are turned. I propose-"

"Hold on, who put YOU in charge?" one man interrupted indignantly as he stood up, his eyes bloodshot from a relative lack of sleep, "The others might be willing to follow someone like you, but I don't think they know what they're dealing with!"

Verité narrowed his eyes at the accusatory jab. "Oh, do tell me, sir, why these folks should not listen to someone who helped save their lives."

"Because, in a sense, it's your fault we're here in the first place," the fellow growled, a few others near him murmuring in what seemed to be agreement, "you and that other kid just had to have someone train you in the ways of fighting the Heartless. But did you stop to consider that maybe his presence, and yours as well after you two got those infernal weapons, possibly drew those things to us? If he had left when he had the chance, we likely wouldn't have had to deal with them! That foolish man probably intended-"

"I will not allow you to insult Gulbrand after he gave his life to try and save our world!" the teenager cut in angrily, one of his hands balled into a fist and trembling, his Keyblade materializing dangerously in the other and drawing a few gasps from the crowd, "That stranger he fought would have come to Voluntas regardless of whether or not my former Master stayed and took Viscus and I on as his students. After all, someone else tried the same thing eight years before, or don't you remember how my friend's family and many others were lost? It's thanks to Gulbrand that we are still here to even discuss this. He bought us some extra time to escape, and because of his sacrifice, Viscus and I were able to get back to our home and gather as many people as we did. If he hadn't stayed, not only would none of us would be here right now, but we'd either be Heartless or food for them! Therefore, as the most capable fighter here, as a person who only wants the people of his world safe and able to survive, and as the one who is most actively seeking a solution to our present dilemma, I suggest you back down before you get in over your head. And if you or anybody else here has a problem with that, then by all means, enlighten me on how you would do things differently."

The opposition pointed a finger as if to protest further, opening his mouth and trying to speak before just as quickly falling completely silent. The man lowered his arm and pursed his lips slowly, slinking back down the wall into a seated position, the others that had stood by in his defense doing the same. Verité snorted contemptuously and dismissed his weapon, shaking his head and sighing loudly enough for everyone present to hear it plain as day. He understood that tension was high and that it was only natural that some people would be sore and have misgivings about what to do or what could have been, but it aggravated him that they could be so callous in voicing their opinions, especially when it was clear that they had not thought of what the alternatives may have brought. Most infuriating was that they had attempted to shoulder some of the blame onto him, Viscus, and Gulbrand, although he felt that that should not have been so surprising, and yet it was.

Taking in several deep breaths to calm to his hot head, Verité once more put on a serious face for the people within the hull. "Well then, if there are no objections, I will continue," he said, "I propose that we find a large metropolitan area in which we can best blend in, preferably under the cover of night. But rather than a straight drop, we should skirt along the atmosphere so that we don't risk appearing like a flare in the sky. Once we are close enough, I will select a landmark and then depart from the ship while my father guides it to a less conspicuous location. We'll all meet up at the designated place at a later time, and from there we'll figure out how to carve a niche in whatever city we end up in."

"Oh, _mio figlio_," his mother murmured concernedly to him as she came up beside him, "Will you be alright by yourself? It is possible we may not be able to catch up with you for a good little while."

Verité bit into his lip at the tone of the one who had brought him into the world, reaching over to give her a reassuring and gentle hug. "_Mamma_, I cannot guarantee I will be perfectly fine, but I promise you that I will be waiting. Now, let's get this show on the road!"

As if he had been waiting his whole life to hear those words, Mr. Capto punched the Gummi ship into gear. The craft lurched forward and streaked from the moon towards the surface of the planet, though the pilot carefully followed his son's directive to skim across the globe, keeping his distance from the great blue sphere for the time being. Verité's eyes rapidly scanned over the map as it was filled in by the ship's computer, looking for any sort of place where they might have the advantage of cover. The system began to add factors such as weather, sunlight, and infrastructure, lights beginning to flood some areas of the darker side of the planet's landmasses. The young man's fingers hurriedly worked over the console, assessing each and every possible location that appeared on the monitor and comparing them carefully.

It was when he glossed over a place on the northeastern edge of what appeared to be a barely connected pair of continents that he found what he believed to be the ideal landing spot. A massive, sprawling city that had enough lights to make night seem inconsequential was currently experiencing abnormal weather patterns which caused a good bit of the metropolis to be hidden from brewing clouds. Verité excitedly pointed this out to his father, who nodded to him and began to dip the Gummi ship ever lower into the world's atmosphere, still streaking through its layers in a circular path to avoid being seen for more than an instant if anyone were to look up. The ship started to decelerate once they had reached an altitude of 100,000 feet, and the moment they approached half of that height, the craft was brought to a rest high above their target location. Once more looking towards the visuals, Verité determined that the storm was at its most concentrated above one of the city's tallest buildings, which was odd when he realized that the skyscraper was, at its highest point, slightly above what seemed to be the lower cloud line.

With this in mind, the teen signaled for his father to bring them in closer, swinging around in his chair to face the others. "Once we approach the 25K marker," he said as he reached into a bag of his belongings that his mother had brought next to him, "I want everyone to put on their oxygen masks and have my father open the cabin door."

"You mean you plan to JUMP!?" one of the others inside asked incredulously.

Verité grinned and brought the top of one of his fists to his chest confidently. "My former Master taught me many more tricks than just swinging around a metal stick and shooting fireballs. But once I make that leap, you all have to get a safe distance from the city so that you're not spotted. Land somewhere discreet, where the ship will be camouflaged by its surroundings. Make your way to this building after that, and I assure you that I'll wait patiently for your arrival."

The Gummi ship stopped once more, indicating to the boy that they had reached the altitude he had planned, and with that, many plastic respirator masks dropped down from the ceiling. The people hurriedly moved to their seats and strapped themselves in, affixing the oxygen masks over their faces before looking towards Verité expectantly. He took a deep breath and stood up, making his way over to the cabin door and twisting the heavy, rounded release with both of his hands as though he were trying to redirect water from a pipe main. Wind furiously began to whip at his face once he finally managed to pry the door open, one hand hanging on to the frame as he looked down towards the place he was about to go. While he knew exactly how he was going to go about this, Verité felt his stomach tighten anxiously, only barely noticing how his breathing had quickened, but his heartbeat had grown so blatantly loud and rapid that he could both feel and hear it thumping in his ears as well as his chest.

Gulping literally as well as figuratively swallowing his fear, the boy leaped forth from the cabin, immediately assailed by frigidly cold air. He spread out his arms and legs and assumed a belly-first position in the air, knowing it would cause his terminal velocity to be lower than if he were diving straight down. The knot in his stomach gave way to a pit as he beheld the slowly growing view below him, his clothes flapping noisily against him and eyes barely open as the winds tore at his plummeting form. At first, the free fall was somewhat pleasant, but that was before the pace of his drop began to increase exponentially, the image of the storm-covered city becoming rapidly more apparent with each passing second. Eventually, though, his pace evened out and he prepared himself for the next phase of his plan.

Verité brought his hands together, struggling against the currents fighting against him, and touched his palms to one another. "Slow!" he shouted out, a silvery light surrounding his form while a clock-like sphere enveloped the area immediately around him. His falling speed had decreased dramatically with the casting of the spell, making the sensation of his falling now seem more like he was hurriedly floating downward. A few more minutes of drop eventually guided him towards the top of the storm cloud just above the building he had spied on before, though he was shocked upon seeing it suddenly begin to dissipate. He saw that he was much closer to the uppermost floor than he had expected, but it was not as surprising as what he saw there.

A great stone castle was settled rather nicely on the roof of the towering skyscraper, its towers and walls rather pristine for something that appeared otherwise ancient in its design. It was as though it were molded into just the right shape in order for it to fit on the building, with only some of its crenellations jutting outward from the rim. It made him wonder just how much it would have cost to build something like that on the top of an already very tall structure. Much as he wanted to admire it from above and consider this point, he realized that he did not have the time for that. Panic shot through him as the effects of the slow spell started to wear off, his descent once more picking up speed as he hurtled towards the castle. Realizing he had barely any more time to react, he pushed his arms forward underneath him, then suddenly smacked them into his chest and shut his eyes only seconds before he would strike the stone.

"DRIFT!" he yelled, a slight prickling sensation firing through every nerve in his body. When he opened his eyes, he was less than his own height from the ground, lightly twisting in the air, but otherwise not moving an inch. The zero gravity spell was normally one that was reserved for fighting the Heartless, as it left them helpless and open to attack, not to mention it caused a small amount of pain to those under its effects. Using it on oneself was an unorthodox, if potentially lifesaving application, and Verité had only used it in this way once before to test whether it was even possible. He thanked whatever powers that may be out there that he had remembered such a thing, even if it was out of desperation. The boy felt it start to wear off less than half a minute after casting it, righting himself with a flip so that he landed on the balls of his feet with a gentle clap.

After taking a moment to get his bearings, Verité moved towards the edge of the tower he had landed upon and peered into the courtyard. From there he saw a few small pools of water and aesthetically placed rocks dotting the mix of greenery and barren, likely shallow soil. The trickling of a fountain could be heard, and modern lights were strung along the perimeter of the otherwise ancient-looking castle, with one wall carved out in steel that appeared to house a pair of elevators. As open as the main area was, the teen could spot numerous passages all throughout the complex that hinted towards a confusing navigation for those unfamiliar with the place. Most unsettling, though, was that aside from the sounds of activity in the streets below, the area was eerily quiet and nobody was present. And as he looked around, he saw scorch marks and blasted stone which indicated a battle had taken place. Judging from the fact some debris was present, it had to have happened recently.

The latter point was quickly discarded as the telltale ding of an elevator cab reaching the top floor rang in Verité's ears, his eyes quickly moving back towards where he had seen them. Three figures came out of one of the open lifts, one of them a tall Caucasian man with a well-sculpted face complimented by a finely trimmed goatee, lengthy brown hair tied back in a ponytail, and a pair of equally dark eyes, dressed in dark grey business attire with a formal black shirt underneath The second was another man with slightly paler skin, short blond hair and blue eyes that were framed by a pair of large glasses, wearing a midnight blue suit and pair of pants, as well as a white collar shirt and plain red tie. Verité knew that Viscus often kept a stoic expression whenever he was not engaged in anything, but even his friend's normal demeanor seemed positively cheerful compared to the stone face the man was sporting. The other person was an almost equally tall woman with very long black hair, chocolate brown eyes, and darker skin than her companions, though the teen watching them could tell from her face and the tint of her flesh that she was of mixed blood. She was wearing a red, long-sleeved vest over a black shirt and a pair of blue denim jeans, her black shoes looking somewhere between formal and casual. After the first of the figures he spotted stepped out for some unknown reason, the blond man was leading the latter through the courtyard, a bit of conversation passing between them at times, though Verité was too high up and far away to make it out.

While a drop of tens of thousands of feet was undoubtedly a fatal venture, one that was merely tens was not, so the boy took a jump down to one of the outer walls, hanging in the air for a few moments before he landed upon the stone, cursing softly at the discomfort his soles felt and the dull throb that traveled up his legs and spine. He quickly dove to hide behind the wall facing the courtyard, keeping his breathing as quiet as possible while he leaned one ear towards the direction of the other two people.

"Is there a problem, detective?" one voice, clearly male, inquired of the person accompanying him.

Verité held his breath and froze where was sitting, his back and arms pressed up against the wall. He had not expected one of the people to be a detective, and that made him wonder what exactly she was snooping around the place for. It was unlikely that they had spotted the craft that he had jumped from, but then he could not be too sure. What was strange was how suddenly the storm cloud above this location disappeared, and how it had done so completely. And then there was the matter that there were marks of a fight, or at least a violent struggle, littered about the complex, which he was sure the detective had probably picked up on. He just hoped that she had not heard him jumping down from the tower.

"That stone gargoyle up there," a female tone said after a momentary pause, confusion evident in her voice, "I could have sworn I saw it move."

A slight chuckle of nervous amusement came from the man as Verité continued to listen. "Yes, this old place is rather spooky at night. I've thought the same thing more than once."

Stone gargoyles capable of movement was something Verité had to admit seemed like a farfetched idea out of some dark fairy tale. But then again, until he had first seen the Heartless, he could not believe those creatures existed either. And then there were the many times that Gulbrand had spoken about how different other worlds could be, both their environments and their inhabitants. With these points in mind, Verité thought that the existence of living gargoyles in at least one world was something plausible. But the boy was not exactly keen on finding out whether those kinds of creatures were friendly or not. He had come to this world seeking a place for his family and friends, and so that took priority over whatever was going on here.

As Verité let out his breath and slowly began to shift away from his position, he was distracted by the sound of the elevator being called once more, chancing a glance from behind the crenellations to spy the detective walking into one of them and bidding the blond man goodbye, who himself disappeared down another corridor. Deciding that this was the moment to move around a bit more freely, he slowly stood up and eased into a crouching gait, making his way across the structure while continually looking around to keep watch for anything out of the ordinary. Once more the elevator rang and he ducked behind the wall reflexively, but was puzzled to see that neither of the doors he spied on had opened like he expected. He concluded that one of them must have opened on the next highest floor, as he could hear movement echoing throughout one of the passages nearby. Verité let his eyes scan the area quickly from every angle he could manage, only continuing once he was absolutely certain that nothing else was around.

Upon passing another of the many stairwells within the castle, he was given pause after the sound of scraping stone reached his ears, his heart starting to pound uncomfortably. Footsteps that were not his own rang through one of the corridors, and for a brief moment, he lost his cool and bolted down the nearest flight that he could find. All Verité could think about was getting someplace safer and less anxiety provoking, and so he took another side passage upon reaching a fork within the structure. But this turned out to be a mistake, as he came out on the other side of another clearing on top of the walls, almost coming face to face with a small handgun aimed at his torso. On the other end of it was the same detective he had been spying on earlier, a look of grim seriousness on her face as she held the firearm steady in both of her hands. There were hints in her features, though, that gave away her surprise at encountering him here, but it was clear her professionalism afforded her nerves of steel and put those feelings aside to deal with her sudden company.

"Okay, pal, put 'em where I can see 'em!" she commanded, gesturing to his arms with the barrel of her pistol, "No funny business; just put your hands up nice and easy."

Verité slowly did as she said, his arms gradually moving up so that he would not suddenly startle her into shooting him, palms facing outward to show that he was currently unarmed. But before the lady cop could fully apprehend him, a low, menacing and inhuman growl came from behind him. Verité turned his head just enough to try and catch the view of what was making the noise, and a small part of him wished that he had refrained from doing so. A four-legged beast with flesh as smooth as any man's and as deep a blue as the sky just before night fully came on stepped into view, its eyes a pure, eerily glowing white. Its face had a slightly elongated snout, almost like that of a dog, but with a bottom jaw that showed two of its larger fangs off quite prominently, and its head was adorned with fan-like ears that looked more appropriate as fins for some manner of fish. Just above its brow were two small horns that jutted out in the same direction as its ears, and three much larger spiky ridges traced down its spine. Its feet were like a cross between talons and paws, having the sharp edges and nails of the former while sporting the rough structure of the latter. It had a very short tail on its backside, which was the same deep blue on top, but a much lighter shade on the bottom, much like the rest of the underside and the back of the legs of the beast.

A gasp of shock from the woman was enough to tell Verité that her attention had shifted from him to the newcomer, and he certainly could not blame her. He quickly shifted into one corner so as to get out of the way of any potential crossfire, but he spied an even more appalling sight than what he was currently involved with. A tall and imposing figure with lavender skin, long raven hair and a humanlike face that sported two small horns above his brow had silently shown up behind the detective. It boasted a pair of large, membranous wings and stood upon the balls of two digitigrade feet, his hands human except for the sharp claws upon the ends. It wore only a brown waistcloth held up by a big but simple black belt with a golden buckle, and its eyes were entirely white save for a pair of dark pupils that seemed to regard the two humans before it with a hint of contempt.

The figure reached for the woman's handgun just as she brought it to aim at the other creature and snatched it up quickly, crushing the weapon in his grip and letting the fragments clatter uselessly to the floor. Now without a way to handle a being of such strength, the detective began to back herself towards the ledge of the wall, fear apparent in her breathing and occasional sounds of panic. Verité wanted to warn her about how dangerously close to the edge she was, but he did not get the chance to, watching in horror as she lost her footing and tumbled over the battlements, screaming at the sudden drop. The great being, having attempted to reach out for her just before she fell, dove after her, tucking its wings against its side as it dropped headfirst so that it would gain more speed. The other beast clambered up to the edge with its front legs and peered down at the streets below, its gaze seemingly fixed on what was now going on with the woman. Verité did the same and watched as the mysterious figure seemed to reach her in the nick of time, swooping back towards the side of the building he was on, though at that point, they were little more than dots that could barely be made out. Allowed this relief, the young man jumped away from the beast beside him and held up his hands in as nonthreatening a gesture that he could muster when it returned its attention to him, once more snarling in a clearly irate manner.

"Easy there," the teen said as he tried to reason with it while holding his ground, "I mean you no harm so long as you do not try to attack me. That... well, gargoyle, I'm guessing, is a friend of yours, isn't it? And this place must be your home."

The beast continued to growl at him, though it seemed to regard his actions, as it neither approached him further nor drew itself away, and its face gave off signs of some understanding. The two remained that way for several minutes before the sound of concrete being fractured distracted them from their stare down. The detective and the creature that had gone after her soon emerged from over the edge, the former with her arms around the latter's neck as it brought them both onto the wall. She dropped her hold and sunk to her knees, one hand to her chest as she caught her breath and was trying to calm her undoubtedly furiously beating heart. When the beast next to Verité started to menace her once more, the young man rushed to her side and glared at it to show that he would not back away if it tried anything. Both humans were surprised when the gargoyle laid one hand atop the feral thing's head and stroked over it gently.

"Don't worry, he won't hurt you," it said with a deep and powerful masculine voice, a brief smile on its face before it returned to its stony expression from before, "Now, once again, what are you doing here? And please, don't fall off the building this time."

The woman looked towards Verité and the two others before her, resting her chin on one of her fingers thoughtfully. "Well, I already introduced myself to Goliath after he saved me from becoming a mark on the sidewalk," she told the young man, pointing towards the gargoyle, "But so we're all on the same page, I'm Elisa Maza, a detective with the 23rd Precinct. I got permission from Mr. Xanatos to have a look around, due to an earlier disturbance. That's all I've got, so let's hear your story, kid."

The gaze of the three others turned to the young man with them, who sighed in exasperation at the situation he found himself in. "My name is Verité Capto and I came into this castle because I was curious as to what exactly was going on myself. I'm from a group of refugees made up of my family and friends that escaped trying circumstances, and it was at the foot of this building that I promised to meet them after scouting ahead."

Elisa eyed him suspiciously, not certain how serious he was being to her. "How exactly did you get to the top floor without the front desk stopping you or Xanatos finding out? He told me about no breach in security other than the men who attacked the roof."

Verité had to concede that Detective Maza was rather perceptive, and he figured that it probably was a strange sight to see someone his age in a place like this. Of course, the situation was no less exasperating to him, as was evident by a heavy sigh he let out upon pondering his lot. "Well, I can assure you that I'm not after this Mr. Xanatos, whoever that is," the young man answered, "however, unless I show you how exactly I arrived here, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. And as I'm not interested in dragging you into any further calamity than you've already experienced tonight, I don't plan on doing that."

As if to spite his adamant statement, the beast at Goliath's side began to growl at the boy, or so it seemed to him. It dropped onto its haunches lowly, ready to pounce at any given moment, before reacting the instant Verité flinched and shut his eyes. Rather than feel a crushing weight on his torso, he instead picked up a small swish of the air and looked behind him to see a black cloud of smoke disperse into scattered wisps. The beast was set upon by a small group of short, hunched creatures with bat-like wings, flaunting spade-tipped tails that were greater in length than the rest of their short bodies. Their forms, as Verité had expected when he had heard the unusual but familiar sound upon one's defeat, were entirely black, save for their luminescent yellow eyes. The thing that best described them, in the boy's mind, was imp-like, though he supposed they could have been miniature mockeries of gargoyles too, given the world he was in. All the same, Verité was none too happy with what he now found himself facing.

"Oh, this is just fantastic," he muttered in bitter sarcasm, feeling his face start to heat up quickly.

As if skydiving out of an interstellar ship from a height greater than the tallest mountain on this planet onto the roof of a building, dodging detection from said structure's occupants just to get a gun pointed at me, and getting surprised by living, breathing gargoyles weren't all enough, life just decides to throw some Heartless in the mix too. Because, as we all know, _that_ just makes everything better, heaping load upon load of hardships on the back of the guy who can most effectively deal with them. Verité thought about how his lot, by some divine prank, didn't have enough problems going on right now, so these stupid little gremlins just pop on in to say hello and snag a heart or three. He was _not_ in the mood for this after all the things that had happened in the last couple days. And as such, one could forgive him for not thinking with a completely straight head.

Too upset to remember his attempts to try and keep a low profile, Verité called his Keyblade into one hand and rushed forward, swinging his weapon across his front and dispatching a couple of the creatures that had attempted to overtake the gargoyle beast. His free hand extended its index finger towards another Heartless and let loose a concentrated lightning bolt, vaporizing the dark being with hardly any effort. To his right, Goliath lifted an imp in each hand and flung them into the nearest stone wall, shocking the teen as the sheer force caused the Heartless to vanish into trace bits of their distinctive black smoke. Elisa was doing her best to drive them away with her physical abilities, but even though she was able to keep from being touched, Verité could tell that she was doing next to nothing to the Heartless when it came to actually hurting them. He did not have to worry, though, for the same beast that he had helped just moments ago pounced upon them, giving the woman enough space to move more freely now. Verité took the opportunity to run, his legs bending down before making a leap, his feet lifting up and then skidding along the stone as he broke into a slide. During this unorthodox move, he tripped up a handful of Heartless as he swept his weapon from side to side, a couple of them falling to his blade outright.

His feet came to the edge of a wall and he kicked out of his previous maneuver, swiftly landing on all fours and just as quickly flipping up onto both legs once more. Both hands grasped the handle of the Keyblade tightly and he leapt into the air, the tip of his weapon pointed at a smaller group closing in on the other three with small streams of light rapidly twisted their way towards the very end of the Keyblade, Verité lifting his weapon above his head as though channeling a great power. The lights kept streaming into an increasingly growing sphere, which pulsed brightly and almost seeming to try and jump right off of the metal. Eventually, as his arms trembled from both the energy he'd gathered and the effort of keeping it under control, the young man pointed it once more towards the advancing creatures.

"Ragnarok!" he shouted, and the sphere of light surrounding the edge of his Keyblade erupted in a dazzling gleam. A multitude of energy rays corkscrewed away from the original gathering point, their spread growing wider and wider as their distance grew, until they suddenly twisted in their trajectories. Each went streaming after a different target, the Heartless exploding into brief and bright flares before fading out completely. In short order, the pack that had threatened Elisa and the others had been dealt with, and fortunately for the young warrior, they were just finishing up with the last couple stragglers. Goliath brought both of his hands down upon the remaining creature, his strength so great that the shadowy imp was instantly reduced to wisps. Verité swept his free hand towards his benefactors and they were bathed in a bright green light that he too shared. He felt some of the fatigue he had built up during the battle fade away, the aches in his thoroughly worked muscles disappearing as well. But now he was pretty tapped for magic, and it would take him a while to recover his arcane reserves without any restoratives on hand.

Elisa walked over to him and crossed her arms, an impressed smile on her face. "I gotta say, kid, you've got some fancy moves. But all that just raises even more questions. And then those black things...what are they? You seemed to show some sign of recognition."

"I, too, am curious as to your familiarity with these beasts," Goliath concurred, "I also wonder how a human came into possession of such an odd, albeit powerful magical weapon, and how he is capable of great physical feats not just for his age, but for his kind."

Verité sighed exhaustedly and leaned back against the closest wall in order to gain a little more comfortable of a position. "Okay, now that I've blown my cover, I see no reason to keep hiding anything now," he groaned disappointedly, "Thought it was kind of a stupid rule anyway. I'm what folks call an 'offworlder', meaning, plainly enough, that I'm not from this planet. More specifically, though, I'm a Keyblade Knight, a user of a mystical sort of weapon that's linked to the heart of its respective handler, and whose forms vary just as widely as peoples' appearances. And this one I wield possesses the ability to transform into a shield and reflect potential harm back onto my attackers, provided said harm isn't strong enough to overcome its defenses. Despite its luminous qualities, however, all that is required to use a Keyblade is a strong heart and a keen grasp of the nature of light and darkness within it. That said, it is just as likely for a drifter of the shadow to come into possession of one as it is for an altruistic, good-hearted individual. As for the strength and dexterity, when one obtains their Keyblade, they're pretty much granted peak human condition, though more experienced wielders are capable of superhuman levels of ability. Another standard of a user is the ability to cast magic, which can be learned naturally over time and through great effort even without having such a weapon. Having a Keyblade, however, greatly accelerates the process and increases the potency of the spells in one's repertoire.

"The Heartless, those black creatures from before," he continued, his free hand coming to rest over the center of his chest, "Are the product of hearts that have fallen completely into darkness. Of course, there is more than one way for a person to become such a monstrosity. Being overcome and wholly submitting to the internal negativity, which makes up the dark side of one's heart and emotions such as anger and despair, is considered the 'natural' process. People slain by Heartless also become Heartless, and it's the most common and prevalent method by which their numbers grow. It is most important to note that they're not only alien to this world on which we stand, but to this very dimension, which is called the Realm of Light. Long story short, the Heartless are denizens of the Realm of Darkness, which stands opposite to our own cosmos, and yet is intricately connected. They desire hearts so as to make more of their kind, and so by extension, are instinctively seeking out the greatest one of all: Kingdom Hearts. It used to be that the Heartless could only enter our realm through summoning or a breach in the planar boundaries, but at some point in the recent past, they just started swarming. Not only have their numbers increased exponentially, but my late mentor had heard whispers of the existence of artificially created Heartless, distinguishable from their 'Pure-Blooded' brethren by a peculiar emblem. None of the ones we struck down here were these 'Emblem Heartless', but I have seen some for myself.

"And," he hesitated, letting out a sigh, "now for an exposition on the _real_ reason I'm here, which isn't too far off from what I told you before, actually."

Verité launched into his tale about how he had come to this world, starting from when he had woken up on the day of the invasion. He went into a reserved amount of detail regarding the events prior to the whole mess, as he felt it better to answer this part of the inquiry as promptly as he could manage. The boy recounted his battle alongside Viscus and how they led an evacuation out of their town to go find their mentor, who had tragically been mortally wounded. He then spoke about the fight between his friend and the mysterious robed and masked figure, and that the uncertainty of Viscus' fate worried him. Forced to flee from their world's descent into the Realm of Darkness, they had traveled across the cosmos until they had come to this world. From there, Verité described how he had jumped onto the roof of the building and had skulked about until he ran into Elisa, and from there, the rest of the story did not need to be told.

In turn, Goliath, seeing that the two humans before him did not mean any harm to his castle and were willing to defend it when those creatures arrived, began to relate the story of his life. Roughly a thousand years ago, the castle, named Castle Wyvern by its original keepers, was in a place referred to as Scotland, and the hill upon which it had built had contained the ancestral home of his clan. The humans in residence had an uneasy alliance with the gargoyles, as while some respected their drive to defend their home and the people by extension, others vilified them behind their backs and treaded carefully in their presence. One day, a horde of barbarians attempted to take the keep, but the defenders were saved in the nick of time by Goliath and his clan, though few people appreciated their efforts. The next night, after disciplining a mischievous trio of his subordinates, Goliath was approached by his mate and second-in-command, who had delivered news along with the captain of the guard about the invaders attempting to escape into the night. She implored him to take all the gargoyles and crush them once and for all, but Goliath went with only his old friend, the previous leader of their clan and his mentor figure, to hunt down these humans.

However, the two of them had discovered that the expeditionary force had been comprised of very few actual people, and they realized too late that it had been a diversion to draw them away from Wyvern. When they could at last return to the castle, it was in flames, having been raided by the same group that had troubled them just two nights before. He had found the remains of other gargoyles among the wreckage, incredibly mournful and outraged that all in his clan, save for himself, the previously mentioned subordinates, his former leader, and the gargoyle beast currently in his presence, were dead and gone. The group had left their home and sought out the barbarians, finding the people of the castle in the process. The princess, Katharine, had attempted to escape during the scuffle, but was hounded by the barbarian leader and her former captain of the guard, who had become a turncoat and was ultimately responsible for allowing the invaders to sack Wyvern. Though he had had good intentions for doing so, having tried to spare the gargoyles, the captain had met his fate along with the other man after a brief struggle which resulted in them tumbling over a high cliff. The princess had nearly shared their demise, but had been handily rescued by Goliath.

Unfortunately, when they had returned to the campsite, while they did find all the humans liberated, Goliath found the last remaining members of his clan turned to stone. The Magus, a spell crafter that had worked as an advisor for the princess, had cast the curse upon them due to his belief that the barbarian leader had managed to end her life. The counter-spell, however, had been torn out of his book previously and the page that contained it had been burned to ash, so there was no immediate way for them to return to flesh. Denied his revenge for his clan and even a peaceful life with its dwindling numbers, Goliath had resigned himself to the effects of the spell as well, but not before having his "brothers" and himself return to the castle so that they could perch upon it in peace. The enchanted sleep had finally worn off earlier this very evening, due to the terms of the spell having been reached.

"The magus had said that the curse would be broken when the castle 'rose above the clouds'," Goliath explained, one hand sweeping out over the view of the city below him, "Xanatos made this possible by moving our castle to the top of this structure. Despite our joy of finally being free, the world as it is now is a frightening and wholly different place than the one we knew. Our gathering of knowledge and adjustment to this new setting will no doubt be our greatest challenge yet."

Verité was quite entertained by the tale he had heard, and the range of emotions that came to him over the course of its telling was great. He had felt the anger, the sadness, and even the occasional joy in Goliath's voice, and it filled him with sympathy for the gargoyle. Both of them had been forced to leave their worlds behind, and they both had lost comrades close to them. Whether coming from the past or from the stars, the two were in unfamiliar lands, but while Goliath had the remnants of his clan, Verité was still separated from his own group at the moment, and he had no idea where they had landed. Part of him wanted to go out and find them, but a much louder piece had promised to wait for them at this spot and thus he remained stationary, though that did not do much of anything to improve the anxiety he felt about the situation.

He was not given too much time to focus, however, as he picked up voices from a lower section of the keep. Four additional gargoyles had appeared working their way up the steps, Verité assuming they were the remainder of Goliath's clan. One of them had clay-red skin, a wild mane of white hair atop a two-horned head that held a beak-like mouth, and a blue tunic wrapped around its waist similar to Goliath, its overall build somewhat lanky and his gait rather noticeable from the way he was hunched over and seemingly burdened by his relatively massive wings and small feet. A second with olive green flesh was smaller than the others, his whole body devoid of any hair, eyes somewhat large for its head, wings attached to its arms in a manner not unlike that of a bat, and a simple loincloth tied about its middle. The third was taller and a bit more rotund than the previous two, though just as bald as the green one, while its head had wing-like ears and a noticeable under bite, its actual wings were even bigger than the red's, and it too was garbed very similarly. The final one was distinct in several ways. Firstly, it possessed not only a head of long grey hair, but a beard of the same color and almost the same length. His skin was the most similar to a human's in color, being a deep tan, and his figure was best described as portly. While his right eye appeared normal, the left was glazed over and a rather noticeable scar ran vertically over the top and bottom edges of its socket. Three tiny horns were on each side of its forehead, and it was dressed in a leather jerkin and trousers as well as the typical loincloth the others sported, with a curved blade resting in its hilt against one the gargoyle's hips.

Judging from their voices, all were male, and they seemed to be talking about an incident in the kitchen. Verité was not sure he wanted to know, but their attention had left that topic alone upon spotting the two humans on the battlements. The quartet spread their wings and dove into the air currents off the side of the building, using the momentum to glide back upwards and come to land around the other group. Even regarding the sizes of each, Goliath was still clearly the most intimidating and the biggest, though the older-looking one was not too much smaller than the raven-haired giant. Everyone was hushed as the first of the four that Verité spotted sauntered over to Elisa and got a good look at her. After an experimental sniff, he turned his attention to Verité and engaged in the same procedure. Once he seemed to be satisfied with its inspection, he turned to the largest gargoyle with a quizzical expression.

"Are these new friends, Goliath?" he asked.

The teenager heard the detective mumble under her breath but kept his attention on Goliath. "This is Elisa Maza," the larger gargoyle proclaimed, motioning to the woman before doing the same to the young man, "and Verité Capto. One is a...detective?"

"Second class, NYPD," Elisa said with a hint of pride, flipped open her badge holder and showing them the decoration.

The older, tan-skinned member of the clan came forward. "What exactly does a detective do, lass?" he inquired, his voice carrying a Scottish accent with it.

"Well, uh," the officer stuttered slightly, reaching for an explanation that was not too wordy or over the heads of her conversational companions, "when somebody does something wrong, I find out who and arrest them."

Goliath quirked a brow at that. "Who says what's wrong?"

"Well, we have a justice system, laws, penalties, and assessments that the people decide."

"You mean the humans decide," the clan leader pointed out.

The portly blue member among them looked around and regarded Verité for a moment, scratching his chin confusedly. "So, uh...you never told us much about the other human, Goliath."

"Ah, of course," the addressed gargoyle rumbled, his gaze and attention moving from Elisa over to Verité, "He wields both spells and a powerful magical weapon, which he refers to as a Keyblade. After undergoing and completing strenuous training, he was named a master and carries the additional title of Keyblade Knight."

"What's that?" the olive one asked, eyes alight with curiosity.  
But before he could properly explain, Verité was cut off by Goliath, who looked out over the edge of the castle to see the barest hints of dawn starting to creep over the horizon. "It seems that discussion will have to wait. The two of you should go now."

"Wait! Will I see you again?" Elisa said concernedly, "I'd like to know more about you. Look, you saved my life, so I owe you. Let me help you understand this city. You need to know how it works."

The young man with them decided to cut in at this point. "Perhaps you can help me with that, Detective. And Goliath, I may not know much of anything about this place, but I can educate you on some of the advances mankind has made during your slumber."

"If we're to defend the castle," Goliath said, drawing in a sigh of resignation, "I suppose we need to be prepared for whatever's out there. Very well, the two of you should come meet me after dark over there."

The humans followed his pointed claw, tracing it to a much shorter and probably more accessible building's rooftop not too far off. The time of day made a lot of sense to Verité, as he was sure a gargoyle in broad daylight would suffuse the public with panic. But there were other problems that the lad had to consider. If his family came before then, he would have to see to their safety and finding a place that could accommodate them all. Leaving the castle and the building it was attached to was another issue, more so due to property laws, trespassing and the like than an actual physical ability to go. And as much as he did not like to be encumbered by all that, Verité was in no hurry to get his hands locked in a pair of cuffs and be hauled off to a hearing. He heard others talking, but his mind was so wrapped around considerations that it all went in one ear and out the other.

Elisa gently rested a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light push, the boy nodding to her and starting to walk towards the nearest exit that she was leading them to. They descended the stairs and went to the small alcove that held the elevators, Verité reaching forward to press the down button. However, the detective stopped him just before his fingers touched the surface, giving him a more serious face.

"Is there any way you can make it so that they don't see you coming out the doors and the front?" she asked him quietly.

The teen shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, but I haven't quite worked my way up to learning the Vanish spell. Besides, even if I knew how use it, I'm tapped out, so jumping to another building and halting my fall isn't going to work either."

"Well, maybe we can find an alternate exit somewhere," the woman conjectured, "I mean, OSHA regulations typically require a place have at least two ways of being able to leave the building as quickly as possible in case of an emergency, like a fire, mostly so that people can get out reasonably quickly and so that another path is available if one is blocked."

Verité saw where Elisa was going with this and pressed the elevator call button this time without interruption, though he could not help but frown. "So we ride down to one of the lower floors, get off and then take the stairs. Wouldn't there be a security camera on the edges of most hallways? Or in the elevators?"

"Even if they had all that, it's pretty early in the morning, and I doubt that even the most watchful security is able to quickly and accurately scan every one of them," she remarked as the characteristic ding sounded and the doors opened to allow them access to the car, "this is the tallest building in the city, even if we exclude the recent castle addition. That'd be a lot of cameras, and one heck of a load of security footage to sift through."

"Right, I forgot that the everyday technology in this world is the sort that my parents used to have not long before I was born," the boy commented, pulling out his currently rather useless cell phone to check for any kind of signal, "which means I can't get in touch with my parents this way. I guess I'm stuck waiting around outside until they show up, which could be quite a while."

Elisa sighed a bit at her companion's predicament as the doors shut and their descent towards the lower floors began. "I get that you're worried about your folks and everyone else, but you should be looking out for yourself too. Maybe grab a cup of coffee or a bite to eat while you're waiting for them, or see if you find anything interesting in the papers. I'd like to stick around with you until later tonight, but I'm running pretty low on energy. Once I'm out of here, I have to head back to station to debrief, then run home and catch up on some much-needed sleep before the next night shift."

The elevator opened on the fourth floor, allowing the two to step out into the eerily quiet and rather plainly colored halls. The pair wasted no time in looking for the nearest exit, which was around a couple corners from where the elevators were located. Quietly, they made their way down the stairs, their footfalls muted by pressing some of their weight onto the hand rails and taking as gingerly of steps as they could without moving at a snail's pace. Elisa went ahead of Verité and gave the door at the bottom of the steps an experimental push, relieved to find daylight waiting for them both on the other side. They discreetly moved outside and trekked towards where the detective had parked her vehicle. She offered her hand to him, as they had never gotten a chance to shake, and he took it politely, flashing her as warm a smile as his anxious self could manage. Elisa stepped into her car and was out of sight within moments, leaving Verité to wonder about the situation that he had gotten himself into.

-**Watching**-

Once the morning sun had risen completely, David Xanatos took the time to speak with his assistant about a discovery that he had made. Security footage revealed the existence of the same detective that had been hounding him with questions earlier, but this time, she was in the company of a young man in plain street clothes. He rewound the tapes several hours, and it was there that he saw the thing that interested him the most. A strange, sword-like weapon that could be summoned by some form of magic, which apparently had the power to vanquish a group of mysterious creatures that had appeared in the castle. While he had been speaking to another of his benefactors. While the cameras were too far away to pick up any meaningful audio, Xanatos had something of an ability to read lips, but very few people knew that about him. It was a number of choice words that piqued his curiosity even further, such as "Keyblade" and "Heartless". Neither of these things were something that he had ever heard of before, but he was pretty certain that someone he knew had.

"Owen," he said to the blonde, bespectacled man that had brought him the videos, "open a communication channel to our friend in the savannah."

The stoic assistant nodded wordlessly and began to do just that, momentarily taking his boss's cell phone and fiddling around with it a little bit. An addition on the back casing that others of its model lacked contained a hidden miniature console, and a number of delicate movements brought it to life, colorful lights beaming out of the object now. With that done, Owen took a sheet of paper from a coat pocket and studied it briefly before patiently inputting the series of letters and numbers from it into the dial pad. Xanatos took back his cell phone once all that was needed to do was press the send key, flicking his thumb over the button before bringing the receiver to his ear. Momentary static crackled and hissed from the speakers until all was clear and a familiar voice addressed him on the other end.

"I'm not quite finished up here yet," came a deep and booming tone, "but my little friend I spoke about before has arrived, slightly ahead of schedule. I have a feeling that I won't be needing additional help from you for this after all...my targets are playing into my hands rather nicely."

Xanatos smirked in amusement, leaning back in his chair. "I leave it in your hands then. Or should I say paws, given where you are?"

"Blending inconspicuously into a foreign environment is key to a mission like mine," the other said with mirth, "Now, is there something that _you_ need from _me_?"

The billionaire took the time to look over the figures of his company and its subsidiaries before deciding to answer him. "Do you know anything about a weapon called a 'Keyblade' or about creatures known as 'Heartless'?"

If a grin's size could be measured within someone's voice, then the speaker on the other end was wearing one that went from ear to ear. "Best you open up a new word document on your PC, Mr. Xanatos, because there is oh-so-much information on both of those I can provide you. And with the consideration that we both are working towards something that involves the universe at large, I'm giving it to you without a single penny coming my way."

"Excellent."

/\

\/

Post-Story Notes: With a new semester started and my first exam only a couple days away, this chapter took me a bit of time to crank out. As school goes on, my ability to continue will be limited, but not halted, as I also have things like papers to write. We switch back to Viscus' perspective for the next entry, and thank you for the views!


	4. 2A: Experiencing a Different Climate

**Chapter 2, Side A: Experiencing a Different Climate**

Viscus noisily tore into the meal that he had managed to catch for himself earlier in the morning. He felt guilty about having taken the life of one of the antelope that had just been minding its own business, but such was the struggle for survival. After he had mercifully ended its pain as quickly as he was able, he had set about tearing up a clearing so that a sufficient space was occupied only by dirt and the formerly living animal. Once that had been taken care of, he had engaged in a careful and concentrated effort with fire spells to roast the carcass so that it may be more palatable, as he was not too keen on the idea of consuming it raw despite his changed biology affording him the stomach for it. As soon as it was ready, though, the man-turned-hyena had wasted no time in digging in, his hunger overriding his finesse at handling the meal. Squeamish as he was at drinking water that had not been filtered, Viscus knew that he could not afford to be picky, and so he had swallowed his standards and took drinks from the watering hole in-between every few mouthfuls of antelope. The water was far from good, but the meat was surprisingly tasty, especially when he began to work towards the layers that were packed with more fat than muscle.

By the time he was satiated, Viscus had barely gotten through a third of the ill-fated thing. He frowned at the potential waste of future food stores; he could not just freeze it outside because of the climate being too warm to allow his ice magic to sufficiently endure the elements. Sighing, the hyena took it by the neck and dragged it over to the den that he had spent time burrowing during the darker hours. It was situated neat the roots of one of the taller trees near the watering hole and had enough space for him and the body to fit while allowing some freedom of movement. Releasing the antelope from his jaws, Viscus cast a thick layer of frost that hugged around the carcass's form, and given the much cooler air within the den, it would remain frozen for a good while. Satisfied with his handiwork, the striped carnivore took leave of his shelter and began to scout around the area some more.

He had no idea that he was about to witness a bizarre sight the likes of which he would not be forgetting anytime soon. In the near distance, he spotted what appeared to be two lion cubs and a blue and white red-billed hornbill flying above them at slightly greater speed than the young felines were treading. One of the two cubs was a bright gold in color with a tan underbelly, its ears sporting a dark ring on the inner rims, the upper shades of its eyes like chestnut and its lower ones the same color as its torso, while the eyes themselves were yellow sclera adorned with orange irises and the tuft of its tail was a brownish-red. The other was much lighter, its main pelt a tawny tint while its belly, muzzle, paws and the circles around its eyes were much paler, the orbs sharing the same yellow sclera as its companion but sporting deep green irises by contrast, and the edges of its ears and tip of its tail were a light brown.

But that was not the sight. Viscus' ears could pick up what seemed to be small conversation between the three of them, with the bird being notably louder than the others. He wondered how being a non-human animal made him suddenly able to understand others, or that maybe this was a world where all the animals were capable of speech. Given that Julius had said to be prepared for anything, the hyena assumed that this was to be expected. After all, if there were as many worlds out there as there were stars in the night sky, then it was not unreasonable to believe that some may have developed quite differently. This in mind, Viscus continued his observation of the trio, gingerly moving forward through the tall grass to better pick up on what they were saying. It was times like this he cursed the fact that his hearing was actually slightly _worse_ than it was in human form. When the hornbill landed in front of the lion cubs and began to squawk at them, the hyena moved in until he was only a few meters away, hunched low to the ground and finally able to listen in clearly.

"...so you have to do what I _tell_ you," the darker of the two cats said in a voice like a preadolescent boy, punctuating his statement with a thump against the bird's chest.

The avian brushed off its plumage indignantly with its wings and glared at the lion. "Not _yet_ I don't," it fired back in a formal sounding accent, clearly male as well, "And with an attitude like _that_, I'm afraid you're shaping up to be a pretty pathetic king indeed."

"Humph," the same cub grunted, its muzzle bearing a cocky grin, "Not the way _I_ see it."

It was then that Viscus stumbled upon something he never expected to see: the animals suddenly breaking out in song. He watched as the lion cubs incessantly teased the hornbill about how the rules will change when the male-sounding one becomes king, the bird becoming the victim of several other mishaps along the way at the hands of other creatures while lashing at the idea of the arrogant boy being the future monarch. The scene changed rapidly before the hyena, with the cats skipping across the water hole, then riding ostriches as the hornbill flew after them, looking rather annoyed by their antics, but still contributing to the rather abrupt musical they were putting on. The pair of felines climbed up and slid down the necks of giraffes, the brighter one showing off both his form and his singing voice to other animals as they gathered to join in. As random as it was, Viscus could not help humming along to their tune, since it was, in his opinion, kind of catchy.

It all came to a climax before Viscus could have time to follow just what the heck was going on. The animals began to form a stack, each level consisting of a circle of one species showing off in their own unique ways. At the very top of it all was the two lion cubs, delivering the big finish as the pyramid of savannah dwellers began to topple over. Each of them began to scatter off into different directions after crashing down, Viscus' eyes scanning around for the fleeing felines before eventually picking them out from the crowd. They were hurriedly moving away from the scene, having apparently escaped unscathed as the hyena spotted no signs of injury on either one. To the hyena, this suggested that this whole show had been some sort of plan Viscus waited until most everyone was gone so that few others got in his path. Just as he began to pass by a rhino that was just sitting where the pyramid used to be, he heard the muffled voice of the bird underneath it.

"Simba? Nala?" the hornbill called out concernedly after vainly attempting to demand the animal atop him to get off.

Viscus paused at the humorous sight for a few moments before trotting past it in the direction that the cubs had gone. A cleft in the nearby cliffs led to a darkened path that just reeked of a sight that would lure in curious kids, so the hyena deduced it was the most logical place to look. As he approached, he noticed a musty, distinct scent assail his nostrils, one that caused him to shudder. It was little different than the stench of the antelope after its life had been ended, and it grew stronger the closer he grew to the rocks. A small part of him started to grow increasingly uneasy, but he needed to know what it was that had attracted the cubs to go in this direction. And of the many bizarre sights he had seen today, none of them were as unsettling as what he saw before him the moment he crossed through the divide.

While he did indeed find the lions there, they were gaping in what Viscus could guess was a mix of fear and awe at the bleak, craggy grey vale that was spread out in front of them. Bones littered the landscape as far as the eyes could see, all large enough to belong to the elephants that the hyena had seen frequent these lands. He had always heard rumors about such places back on his own world, but they were unsubstantiated there. His spine grew rigid as a shiver ran through him, the same unpleasant sensation from last night nagging at him. The way the piles were strewn about and organized, it was almost clear to Viscus that this was a place that would be ideal for predators to hole up in without having to dig their own dens. His mind made a joke about how he was walking into a figurative lion's den with the cubs here to show him the door, but his more rational side figured they were just looking for trouble, as any kid would be after wandering into a place like this. It did nothing to abate the feeling of being watched, though, and he ducked into one of the nearest shadows by the rocky walls to try and shake it off. But it just wouldn't leave him alone, and so Viscus set about trying to refocus his attentions on the lions.

His ears picked up the mischievous chatter between the two, saying how it was creepy and that they could get in real trouble. Of course, that was the thing about kids: the more potential for trouble something has, the more likely they are to do it anyway. To his personal amusement, the cubs were discussing that in brief, excited at this rather morbid discovery of theirs. Still, the hyena was not one to let children get into something potentially dangerous, so he made a move to step in. He was cut off, however, by the very same hornbill he had seen earlier, which flew straight in front of the darker of the two cats. Like any kid getting caught in the act of doing something cool, but naughty, the cubs were equal parts disappointed and ashamed. Or, at least, the paler one was anyway, from what Viscus could see. The golden one continued to be a bit of a braggart, openly defying the bird and sauntering up closer to the massive skull of a bull elephant closest to the group.

"Danger?" the lion challenged loudly, "Hah! I walk on the wild side. I laugh in the face of danger. Ha ha ha ha!"

The young feline was met with laughter in turn, but to his horrific realization, it had not been from his two companions. It had come from behind him, causing him to dart behind the other cub and the hornbill, his eyes fixed on the towering skull. Viscus watched along with them as a trio of drab grey and black spotted hyenas emerged from the head of the former elephant, one coming down the center while the other two strode along the colossal tusks after climbing out from the eye sockets, all of them wearing hungry grins. The only notable differences in them were the patches of hair on their heads and the shapes of their faces, though one did seem a little cross-eyed. The cubs and the hornbill started to back away slowly, but Viscus could see that they would be overtaken if they did not make a break for it.

"Well, well, well, Banzai," the middle of the newcomers chuckled in a sinister tone, its voice like that of a husky kind of woman, "What have we got here?"

Another hyena, with a squarer jawline and lacking any mane on its head proper, creased its notably thick eyebrows at the question. "Hmm, I don't know, Shenzi," it replied to the first speaker in a cracking masculine voice, feigning ignorance and making it difficult to tell if his tone was high or low in pitch, "What do you think, Ed?"

The last of the hyenas, the same one Viscus had spotted earlier with the cross-eyed gaze, simply laughed in a maniacal and unintelligible manner. But this just made Banzai's grin grow even wider and he cackled in turn as he began to circle around the young cubs and the bird along with his clan mates. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," he said, giving off the impression that he could understand his companion perfectly fine, "A trio of trespassers!"

The striped hyena watching from the shadows wanted to intervene, to run out and stop things from getting ugly. His emotional side felt for the children and their companion that were in very real danger, while his logical side argued that nature sometimes forced even crueler situations than this one upon those caught up in the game of life. As he looked on, Viscus winced as he noticed a tone of recognition in Shenzi's voice when she looked over the hornbill closely and did not fail to see a similar reaction to his own upon the avian's features, though considering he squawked back in offense, it must have been prompted by whatever the spotted female said. And then the golden cub, Simba, if Viscus had heard correctly, was just keeping his same airy attitude about him, despite the obvious fear in his eyes. A rash comment on the intelligence and hygiene of the predators surrounding them was hastily attempted to be hushed by the hornbill, whom Simba referred to as Zazu, though Banzai picked up on the insult despite his simple appearance.

This prompted the bird to try and hurry themselves out, taking on an apologetic demeanor to try and appeal to the predators' natures, but Shenzi forced herself in-between them and the exit. "What's the hurry? We'd _love _for you to stick around for dinner," she said hungrily, hinting at an almost perverse enjoyment in seeing her potential prey squirming.

"_Yeah_," Banzai agreed wholeheartedly, taking on the same sadistic temperament, "We could have whatever's...'lion' around. Get it? _Lion_ around!"

The other two joined him for a short laugh before the female tried one-upping him with, in Viscus' opinion, an equally bad pun. And while he certainly found it to be in bad taste, Simba and his group used the opportunity to slip away from the now fitfully giggling hyenas. Of the three of them, few would suspect Ed would be the one to first catch on to something amiss. The linguistically limited animal began to wildly gesticulate with its fore paws towards the cubs and jabbered at his two friends frantically. Annoyed that their good laugh had been spoiled, they soon realized the situation and sprinted after their fleeing quarry. Simba had broken into a run the moment he had heard the hyenas stop laughing, his heart pounding loudly and quickly in his ears as he scrambled as fast as he could up the hills of bone. The other cub, whom Viscus deduced as Nala from what he had heard Zazu say earlier, was very close behind him, followed by the aforementioned hornbill.

Viscus watched after them for a bit before crouching down into a position to ready himself for a heated chase. "Go!" he shouted, his ankles surrounded by coppery rings of energy that took on the face of a clock and its internal workings. The gears and hands of the projection began to rapidly spin along with the edge of the bands themselves, which gradually shrunk until they vanished in a small shower of sparks. The striped hyena sprang from his stance and charged forth at a speed greater than the form was naturally capable of, blurring his was over to the top of one bone pile to watch the events unfold. Looking to his left, he saw that Zazu had been caught by the hyenas and was being forced into one of the steam geysers that peppered the melancholic area. Plugged past its capacity, the column blasted the hornbill off and away, right to where Viscus was. He jumped to one side as the bird crashed into the ivory, their rattling ringing heavily in Viscus' ears. The landing certainly did not look as good as it sounded.

Zazu was sprawled out in the bones, looking rather worse for wear, if the scalded tail feathers were any indication. As he looked over the avian, Viscus could not help but feel sorry for him, despite the superior tone he displayed with the cubs before. He could not ignore the danger the children were in any longer, and laid one paw over the bird. "Heal," he said softly, a gentle green light washing over the unconscious animal. Zazu came back to the world as his eyes instantly fluttered open, though he was not expecting it to be face-to-face with yet another hyena! He understandably scrambled backwards and shrieked in terror at finding himself in such a situation.

"Ah! Please!" he begged, "you don't want to eat _me_. Why, I'm nothing more than feathers and bones!"

Viscus rolled his eyes and stepped away from the hornbill. "I'm not going to eat you, in part because I already had a meal a little while ago. Also, it's because I'm not like those spotted fools that call themselves hyenas. I saw the whole confrontation between your trio and theirs, and some of what happened before, in case you're curious as to whether I saw anything potentially embarrassing on your part."

"So I'm to believe you don't want to have me for dinner, you've been spying on me, you're suggesting that you're capable of blackmail, and it sounds like you want me to _trust_ your word?" Zazu assumed.

The striped hyena pursed the lips of his muzzle. "The first two and the last one, sure, but I never said that I was going to use your little situation against you. I'll be frank: I'm not like most hyenas, even among my own kind. Nature works in ways that are harsh and that we must learn to accept, but I believe that those cubs don't deserve to go out like this. If it's possible for you to get help, then I implore you to do so for their sake. And I know that it may be difficult to accept the words of a scavenging predator, but I promise you that I will keep those children from becoming the spots' impromptu afternoon snack. The less time we stand here debating whether trusting me or not is a good idea, the sooner we can help those two."

Zazu wanted to argue further, especially on whether or not it was a good idea to even listen to this strange hyena, but the striped fellow had made it clear that now was not the time. Grateful that he would not become someone else's meal this day, the hornbill took flight and shot up into the air before flying back the way he and the others had come. He would have to go and fetch the king, and while doing so would solve this crisis as quickly as possible, he was not looking forward to the stern words and angry visage that Mufasa would surely deliver. Viscus kept his eyes on the bird until he had passed beyond the cliffs, turning his attention back to the action below.

Simba had just reached the top of one of the taller bone piles and was panting as he tried to catch his breath from the extensive chase. But before he could settle, the boy saw that Nala had lost her footing and was starting to slide back down the incline, letting out a panicked squeal as she looked back and saw the hyena trio beginning to dash towards the bottom of the slope. In a feat of bravery that Viscus rather had to commend Simba for, the cub leapt down the ivory hill and careened towards his friend, one of his paws extending the razor sharp claws hidden beneath its digits. Shenzi was posed to deliver a vicious bite to the nearly helpless girl slowly descending her way, but just before her teeth could catch on that pelt, the other lion swiped painfully over the side of her face, causing her to shut her eyes as she winced from the stinging pain caused by the now lightly bleeding wound. Her wound had caused her gleefully predatory smile and eagerness to melt into narrowed eyes and teeth that were bared in annoyed rage, making it plain to her fellow hyenas that she was through with playing around.

Simba and Nala made their way into another rocky passage, their eyes lighting up as they spotted another elephant skeleton whose body conveniently seemed to lead up to a higher cliff. Wasting no time in considering their options, the two cubs clambered up the spine of the remains, certain that their pursuers would be unable to follow. Viscus watched their efforts with his breath held, moving from pile to pile in order to get closer, just in case he was needed. It seemed like the children were going to make it after all, and he was ready to let out a breath of relief. But then his heart sank along with those of the lions as the decayed hide of part of the spinal column gave way the moment Simba and Nala put pressure onto it. With a startled yelp, the pair of cubs tumbled to the ground within the shadow of the skeleton, frantically righting themselves and futilely attempting to climb up the sheer stone face with their claws. Viscus made to dash towards their position, knowing that if the hyenas pressed this sudden advantage, the kids would not have enough time to climb back up the back of the dead elephant, and even if they did, the suddenly reduced room on the spine due to their prior flub would slow them down enough that it would be unlikely for them both to make it. It was all the striped mammal needed to act, because unless he intervened or Zazu showed up with help in the nick of time, the cubs were as good as dead.

He felt himself almost gag in disgust as the spotted predators closed in gradually, taking their time as they were fully confident their prey could no longer escape. Rather than try to scale the skeleton once more, the cubs backed up against the wall, with Nala standing close behind Simba while he courageously shielded her, though both of them were trembling with terror. The hyenas were clearly beside themselves with pride as they spread out a little, enough so that the entrance was not fully blocked, but if either of the two lions attempted to bolt for the spaces between them, they would be easy pickings. Viscus was just beginning to close in when he started to hear little snippets from the trio, their talking goading Simba into roaring at them. Given his age and size, though, all it did was produce a feeble and high-pitched cry, which caused the hyenas to stop for a moment before erupting into laughter. As much as he hated to judge the situation, even Viscus had to admit that the boy's attempt to intimidate his foes was rather ineffectual. And just as he had come to expect, all else, save for the uproar caused by the spots, was completely silent.

It seemed that waiting around for aid was no longer an option at this point. Viscus grit his teeth and built up as much speed as his enhancement could provide before pressing the balls of his feet into the now rocky surface below. With an incredible spring, he went sailing over the heads of the other hyenas and spun himself around 180 degrees in midair, landing on the ground a couple of meters from the lions and kicking up dust as his paws slid a small distance. The grins on Shenzi, Banzai and Ed faded into expressions of astonishment and confusion, since they clearly had not expected this sort of thing. But after a moment of gauging the sudden intrusion, the leader of the three returned to her characteristic devious look.

"Well, here's something you don't see every day," she chuckled darkly, "I've heard all sorts of stories from my folks, but I've never seen a stripe until now!"

Banzai cautiously began studying the new attendee to their hunt from his position. "You think maybe he wants a cut of the meat?"

"I don't know, I'd say he looks more willing to make off with the whole package," Shenzi remarked, her eyes focusing on Viscus, "but if he's open to sharing, then I don't see why we can't play nice. Four of us and two little lions makes for half a cub each! What do you say, 'cousin'? Does that satisfy you at all? I mean, you're getting the chance for fresh meat...not the usual fare for stripes, if I remember right."

The striped male unconsciously raised his mane all along his neck and back to make himself seem even larger, which somewhat unnerved the three standing before him. "No sell."

"Alright, we can compromise," the female said as calmly as she could as she approached Viscus more closely, though underneath she was a bit irritated at the boldness of the mysterious male. "Since our more solitary cousins don't get as much food as we often do, we'll let you part with the girl. But that little..._brat_," she spat out, obviously referring to Simba and keeping herself from using more choice words to keep up the appearance of being reasonable, "is ours, mine especially. He scratched up my face when all I wanted was a little taste. But just between the four of us? Even if we weren't hungry, we'd still kill the prince...the girl with him is just a bonus. And we have it on good authority and incentive to follow through. We could probably get in a good word for you, too."

That made Viscus perk his ears and tilt his head in curiosity. There was another party involved that wanted Simba out of the picture for reasons that did not include having him for dinner. And now that he was thinking about something other than the current situation, the feeling of being watched, which he had shaken off before, had returned in greater intensity. It felt like eyes were glaring into the very deepest reaches of his heart, and he had to suppress the urge to shiver from how disturbing it was to experience. It was not coming from the hyenas, that much he was certain of, but he could determine that the phantom gaze was in the same direction that their backs were turned to. And out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a glint of white along with a small amount of black as well, though he was unable to make out the shape. It would have to wait at the moment, as he realized that he was still engaged with the hyenas.

"So, do we have a deal?" Shenzi asked him, impatience lingering on the edge of her voice.

The striped hyena twisted his muzzle into a snarl and bore his fangs. "It may surprise you, but I'm not hungry at all. In fact, I have no intention of ending the lives of these cubs, but rather, I came here to stop you three. Whoever your benefactor is can't have good intentions for this world if assassination is part of their plan. So, no, we do not have a deal, and if you insist on trying to get at these children, I'll be forced to get rather unpleasant."

The last bit of Shenzi's collected demeanor cracked after those words, an angry scowl framing her face as she flashed her fangs in turn. "Mom and them were right," she growled lowly, "Stripes just can't be bargained with. Alright then...Banzai, Ed, help me teach this little punk a lesson before we get to the main course!"

The two other spotted predators wordlessly got into position, each of them to one side of Viscus while their leader faced him down in the center. The striped boy was ready for a fight, his claws scratching against the stone and his eyes focusing in on the challengers. But he never got to engage the trio in a fight, for a deafening roar shook the air and caused everyone present to freeze up. A golden lion with a luxurious red mane and piercing orange eyes that reminded Viscus of Simba was hurriedly running through the divide towards them, the striped hyena backing away and moving to one side of the enclosure while the spots looked at him in confusion. Before they knew what hit them, the trio was swatted to one side and set upon by the newcomer, each of them thrown into panic as they tried to deal with this unexpected threat. While a bite from a hyena was most certainly a grievous injury to many on the receiving end, Shenzi and her lackeys were not even close to landing one, due to the powerful swipes and slams from the large male lion. The hyenas could do little but take the blows, as even with the advantage of numbers, they were finding themselves outmatched.

Simba and Nala were huddled together and watching the spectacle with a mix of awe and fright, as they knew that even though they were pretty much safe at this point, there would be a rather unpleasant conversation awaiting them. Viscus figured that this must have been the help that Zazu had sent for as he watched the hornbill fly into the area and land next to the startled cubs, casting a glance over at the striped teen. He gave the bird a nod to confirm that he had kept his promise of making sure the hyenas did not get to them, who returned the gesture with a look of thanks. As the off-worlder returned his attention to the battle, he saw that all three of the hyenas were now pinned under the lion's front paws, each of them mumbling frantic apologies. The majestic male glared and silenced them with another roar before threatening them that he never wanted to see or hear about them going near his son again. They took the hint and scrambled to make an exit the moment they were released from their prone positions, each of them, aside from Ed, cursing under their breaths at having their dinner plans ruined.

Zazu chose the moment to fly out in front of the lion and give the hyenas a "that'll show them" sort of expression, clearly smug that he had helped in aiding the cubs in some form. But the bird shrank at the sight of a dangerous glare from his benefactor and wisely chose to keep his beak shut. Viscus remained standing off to the side and kept a careful watch on the lion as he strolled over to him, matching his gaze to let the bigger male know he was not to be intimidated so easily. This almost proved to be a mistake, as the lion was ready to unleash his already foul mood on Viscus, but Zazu flew in front of him and blocked him from doing such a thing.

"Please, Sire," he spoke timidly, almost averting his eyes from the fierce orange spheres, "This is the one I mentioned before. It may be out of turn for me to say, but I don't think it would be proper to harm someone who willingly lent his aid."

The lion regarded his words for a moment and let out a heavy sigh. "I am still upset with you for letting things turn out this way, Zazu," he said pointedly to his majordomo, making the hornbill cringe in shame, before returning his attention to the striped hyena, "However, I grudgingly extend my gratitude to you for helping to keep my son and his friend safe. I am Mufasa, the king of the Pride Lands. You are?"

"I am Viscus," the boy replied humbly, bowing his head lightly in respect, "and I must confess I was not aware of the presence of a king in these lands, nor did I know that such a place even existed until I stumbled upon it. I am from far beyond your borders, venerable Mufasa, past even the horizon behind which the sun sets, and I had set up a den not long after arriving. Truthfully, I do not plan on staying longer than I can help it, but if I may be so bold, I would like to ask for your permission to remain until I am ready to move on."

Mufasa rumbled and hummed as he considered the request. "I have my reservations about allowing such a thing," he remarked, though Viscus did notice his shoulders start to relax, "But you may consider it repayment for keeping my son alive. Zazu, I trust you to deliver this news to the lionesses after you escort Nala home...tell them that Viscus is not to be harmed, by command of their king." The hornbill nodded solemnly, flapping over to the aforementioned cub and bringing her and Simba out into the small group. Mufasa glared at his child, who understandably hung his head and bit his bottom lip nervously. "We will all walk back to the fields near the watering hole," the royal feline announced, "From there, Zazu will take Nala back to Pride Rock, while Viscus will be free to return to wherever he has chosen to rest during his stay. Simba...you deliberately disobeyed me, but we shall speak of that once we are alone."

Everybody else nodded in understanding, none of them wanting or daring to add anything further. As they made their way out of the place where Simba had nearly met his end, Scar looked on from one of the higher cliffs, a frightening expression of frustration and rage crossing his features.

Some hours later, when night had fallen upon the elephant graveyard, the cliffs were lit up by the eerie green steam that rose from the vents and geysers littered about the landscape, as well as the pale light of the moon. The trio of hyenas that had been beaten back by the timely arrival of the king of the lions were licking their wounds at the same sight from which they had been chased, with one of them bemoaning the events of the day while another of them simply giggled madly. "Man, that lousy Mufasa!" Banzai complained angrily while pawing at the impressions of scratches on his backside, "I won't be able to sit for a week!" Ed laughed at that remark, which promptly annoyed the irritable and injured hyena. "It's not funny, _Ed_!" he warned dangerously, but the other could not help bursting out even harder after trying and failing miserably to contain his amusement, "Hey, shut up!"

Banzai, clearly fed up with the laughter at his expense, tackled Ed and began to claw and bite at the cross-eyed predator, who returned his actions. Shenzi, having chosen to rest off to the side and stew in quiet anger about having been beaten by Mufasa and failing to get the cubs. And receiving flak from an upstart stripe whom she had _tried_ to be reasonable with was insult to injury. She swore that if she ran into that guy again, she would make him pay for the humiliation he brought upon them. At the moment, though, the roughhousing of her clan mates was doing little to improve her mood. She stood up and growled fiercely at the pair of males. "Will you knock it off!"

They ceased their struggles, or at least, Banzai did. Ed was still biting on one of his own legs as though he still believed he was engaged in the scuffle. The female among them started to point out that bickering like this and the stigma their kind suffered was the reason they were dangling at the bottom of the food chain. She and her clan mate began rattling on about how if it were not for the lions keeping a tight hold on the power in the Pride Lands, then they, the hyenas, would be the ones calling the shots. This further devolved into them listing off the things that they hated about the big cats, though most of it was, of course, their own opinions. This culminated in them sharing a laugh after simultaneously emphasizing how ugly they found lions to be, though they were unaware that they were being watched by one at that very moment.

"Oh, surely we lions aren't all _that_ bad," came the voice of Scar, who was perched up on the same ledge from which he had earlier observed Mufasa's interference.

Another tone added to his commentary, which caused the hyenas, who had eased up at realizing Scar was among them, to be on edge again. "Yes, only the ones that aren't on the side of the one more deserving of the throne."

"And where were _you_?" the dark feline asked Nuru sharply, "that fetid striped hyena was the one that you referring to last evening, wasn't it? Why didn't you step in and _do_ something?"

The black and white lion grinned broadly. "I am here to advise and observe, not dirty my claws. And besides, he didn't actually do anything other than talk to those bumbling simpletons. It's really their own fault for allowing him to stall for time." One could swear that if you looked closely, his lips spread just a smidgeon more as his ears picked up the sounds of quiet, but clearly resentful growls from the three aforementioned members of his audience.

"True," Scar said with a sigh, pulling a zebra haunch from nowhere in particular and dangling it over the edge of his resting spot, the hyenas following its sways along with hungry eyes, "I don't think they really deserve this. I practically gift-wrapped those cubs for them and they couldn't dispose of them like they were supposed to."

Nonetheless, he was feeling merciful enough to throw the spotted trio a bone, both figuratively and literally, and they dug in without a thought or a word of thanks. Nuru, he assumed, was the sort who would not have been so kind, but it was hard to tell what the mysterious lion was thinking. What was more disturbing than what he thought, however, was what he _knew_. He knew that someone would arrive and try to disrupt the assassination attempt on Simba, although he had not specified that it would be a striped hyena. He had said, though, that it would be someone that stuck out, and Scar could not remember the last time a member of that species had been in the Pride Lands. Not during his lifetime, at the least, though he did vaguely recall his own father having mentioned that he had seen a few during his youth. It mattered little, though, because Nuru had not at all denied what Scar had concluded about the strange beast.

Scar knew that he would have to take more direct control of the situation if he wanted to get anything done, especially with an added nuisance. Not only that, but he had grown so weary of his position as a prince that would never ascend the throne, that he now intended to dispose of both threats with once. As much as he disliked the dimness of his hyena cronies, their aid was unfortunately required if he intended to get rid of his older brother. And if he allowed Simba to live, then he would only be king until the boy was an adult himself, and he simply would not have that. If he was to be the leader of the pride, then he would rule until the day his own future progeny would take his place. The child liked to spend time with him, even though he found the little hairball pesky, but perhaps he could use that to his advantage as he had previously done. Only this time, he would be the one to personally show Simba "something neat".

He knew that the wildebeest herd would be grazing around the gorge later in the next day, as was usual for this time of year. The lion grinned maliciously as the idea already unfolded in his mind, the potential appealing to him. He would trick the child into believing his father wanted to surprise him with something by leading him down into the gully, and of course, would silence any protestations using that clever wit of his. The hyenas would startle the herds upon his signal, directing them to run down into the gorge. Given Simba's luck, Scar assumed that the cub would survive the stampede long enough for him to put on a show fetching Mufasa for his "help". If the boy met his end before they arrived, he and the hyenas would dispose of the king then and there, and they would get rid of that pesky little hornbill as well. But if Simba was rescued and brought to safety, then the treacherous lion would make certain that Mufasa would die and that it would look like an accident. This would allow him time to crush his nephew's spirit and trip him into survivor's guilt, where he would plant the idea of self-exile in the child's head. Desperate to leave the Pride Lands behind in his grief, Simba would then be set upon by the hyenas, and Scar did not need to imagine how that would end.

But there was still the problem of the rogue striped hyena to contend with. "I have the perfect plan to deal with the line of succession," he announced to both his followers and the other lion present, "and yet, its success hinges on whether or not that outsider intervenes. Are you certain that you cannot just go and be done with him, Nuru? It would make things so much easier."

"It is too early for me to consider tossing him aside," the monochrome cat replied, though a knowing smirk was plastered on his face all the same, "but what I _can_ do is the same thing that he pulled today. I will confront him and sit down for a little talk so that you may carry out your designs. Once he recognizes me, he will eschew the thoughts of concern for that boy and no doubt try to attack me. There is bad blood between us, but I do need him alive for the time being. And if he does wise up and attempts to mount a rescue, I imagine he will react rather poorly upon the realization that he failed to save more lives."

With that, Nuru took his leave, not wanting to stick around as Scar began to communicate his plot to the hyenas through way of a musical number. Honestly, he had no idea why he encountered this sort of thing whenever he went around to various places. But the moment he stepped outside of the boundaries of the elephant graveyard, the lion focused his mind on bringing forth a darkness greater than Scar could bring. He was rewarded for his efforts as leopards with inverted colors stepped forth out of black spheres, the familiar crest of a red and black heart printed along their backs, and the ends of their tails were modeled after crescent blades, their muzzles sporting the vicious and powerful fangs of their natural counterparts. Just as the rest of their kin, they sported bestial, glowing yellow eyes that scanned for a victim of their instincts. They were joined by a few notably larger creatures, ones that resembled more dangerously equipped antelope, as their horns were tilted forward, and darkness licked at their already deeply shaded bodies. And last to appear were colorful violet birds with yellow and orange wings that grew from their heads, their eyes yellow with swirling black iris, with black legs that each ended, oddly enough, in red boxing gloves.

With a gesture of his head towards the direction of the savannah, Nuru sent off the Heartless that he had summoned, smirking all the while. Slowly, he followed them, wishing to see what sort of entertainment they could bring to the table once they reached their target. After all, there was nothing quite like a bunch of peaceful natives suddenly being harried by a threat they had never seen or even heard of.

Viscus had informed Mufasa and the others shortly before they had departed where he would be staying, in case they needed to call on him for anything. He figured that the king would be more at ease if he knew where the foreigner would be, and indeed, the regal lion had seemed appreciative that he would divulge such information. The hyena had thanked him for allowing him to take up temporary residence, and had moved to return to his den to allow Mufasa to have a word alone with Simba. He had thawed out the antelope and recooked it so that it would not be cold and tough, and did not realize until he was finished that he had polished off all but the most inedible parts. Considering that his kind were capable of crushing and eating bone, that meant there was practically nothing left afterwards. Such a stressful day had really worked up an appetite, not to mention it was only now that he noticed how tired he was from running around all afternoon.

He was just about to settle down when his Keyblade suddenly manifested itself, parting his jaws automatically as he found its handle once more in his mouth. It surprised him, as the only other time it had materialized without his input was when he had first acquired it. But he remembered Gulbrand had warned him during their training that if one's weapon called itself without the wielder doing so, it meant that Heartless, or some other sources of darkness, were nearby. So, it was not too terribly shocking when a familiar hornbill came flying from the direction of the great rock formation some distance away.

"Viscus! Are you here?" Zazu called out frantically, clearly upset about something.

The striped hyena emerged from his den after forcing his weapon to be dismissed, shaking his head to try and clear up the post-supper grogginess that he was feeling. "Right here, Zazu. Does Mufasa need me already?"

"_Everyone _at Pride Rock could use some help right now!" the hornbill shrieked, lowering his volume after receiving a glare from Viscus that indicated he was being rather loud, "Pardon me. A horde of black creatures is attacking the pride as we speak. We don't know where they came from, but it's clear that they do not listen to reason. They're even more mindless than those dreadful and mangy hyenas. And what's worse is that no matter how strongly we attack, they just keep coming as if our efforts are feeble! We've managed to take care of a few, but at this rate, everyone will be exhausted before they can be routed!"

Viscus knew right away that his Keyblade's appearance was no coincidence, and part of him feared for the safety of the acquaintances he had made. "Lead the way, then. I've tangled with these beasts before and I know their weaknesses."

The bird nodded and turned about in mid-air before flapping his wings as fast as he could, the striped youth padding after him as quickly as his legs would allow. Along the way, he passed by several groups that had already retired for the night, some heads peeking up at the commotion caused by him and Zazu. A few of them were startled at the sight of a predator roaming about at this time of night, but the hornbill had to hurriedly assure them that it was on official business from the king himself, which helped to calm them down. At one point, Viscus had to slow down a little bit so that he could catch his breath, since he was tired from his meal and the exercise he had already engaged in during the cubs' antics. To make up for lost time, however, he cast the speed-increasing enhancement on himself and soon overtook Zazu. Not waiting for the hornbill to catch up, Viscus streaked through the tall grasses and eventually came upon the terraced stones that led up to the main den of Pride Rock.

The striped hyena jumped off to one side just before a dark, leopard-like shape could strike him with a slash from what appeared to be a sharp blade on the end of its tail. In retaliation, he formed an O with his lips and used his arcane energy to launch a fire ball into the beast's side, instantly causing it to explode into wisps of darkness and release a pale pink heart. Viscus continued back up the incline and moved into the fray, where he saw several lionesses swiping at more of the same creature he had dispatched, along with a couple of other types that were new to him, also similar to animals that would be found around here. He huffed a little bit in annoyance as the attention of several Heartless suddenly turned to him, no doubt able to sense that he was a Keyblade wielder. Another jolt of magic and his fangs and claws became coated in lightning, and he jumped to sink the former of those into the neck of the nearest dark antelope, which faded away just like the being he took out moments before after the force of the bite and the accompanying shock kicked in. Though unwieldy as it was, Viscus sprang up onto his hind legs and clawed at one of the birds that had been attempting to deck him, knocking the foe out of the air and forcing it to release a heart after its obliteration. He flipped over another tail swipe and tackled the offending Heartless with both tooth and nail, pushing the monstrous thing to the ground before it met the same fate as the rest of its fallen group.

The gathering of Heartless began to ease up on their initial targets before deciding to gang up on the larger threat, giving Viscus less and less room to fight as time went on. But before things got too ugly, the hyena witnessed Mufasa running in to slam against a few of them before delivering a nasty slash with his claws, managing to eliminate at least one of them. Viscus had to admit that even though the lion seemingly had no special powers like he did, the royal had quite a bit of brute strength, which usually did not count for much against these creatures unless it was in abundance. He spotted an antelope about to try and gore Mufasa, but he leapt over the back of the lion and brought down his dull, but powerful claws into the thing's face, thwarting what would have been a rather nasty end result.

"I see you can handle yourself well against these creatures," the lion complimented him, "calling you here has helped turn the tide."

Viscus flashed him an appreciative smirk. "You're pretty good yourself, King of the Pride Lands. Where are the children?"

"He is currently in the den," Mufasa answered, "Let's make sure _they_ don't reach them."

The hyena nodded and resumed his assault against the Heartless, leaping onto the back of one of the larger antelope-like beasts and taking a swift electrical bite out of the back of its head, disintegrating it and leaving the captured heart to escape its former shell. Two of the leopard creatures moved to rush Viscus, who mimicked his earlier trick, but substituting fire for ice. Two sharp-tipped icy shards were launched in succession from his maw, piercing the foreheads of both beasts and causing them to vanish into black smoke. A small group of the bird Heartless flew in to surround him, but quick thinking allowed Viscus to weave through, roll around and dive away from their flurry of punches. The hyena sprinted towards one of the walls of rock and muttered a couple of words under his breath, dark violet light wrapping around his paws just as they hit the incline. For a few seconds, he was able to briefly manipulate the gravity so that his feet treated the wall as though it were a floor, allowing him to scale up the side and lure the birds in after him, and when they were all packed together, he jumped towards the group while sheathing his entire body with lightning just long enough to cut through their ranks like a scythe does through wheat.

Luckily for him, he was able to somewhat cushion his fall by landing upon one of the antelope Heartless, although it was a rather uncomfortable landing. Still, it resulted in another disposed, so it helped. But now, he realized that he was quickly starting to drain his energy, and he did not want to have to resort to awkwardly using his Keyblade. It was times like this where he found himself wishing he had an ether handy. Some of his reservations were put to rest when Mufasa once more proved himself capable of handling the Heartless as he mauled another leopard, which brought the invaders' count down a little more. With his help, Viscus was able to pick himself back up and helped to mow down the remaining few figures. In a short time, the group let out a triumphant roar after having successfully routed their enemies, fortunate to have not lost anyone to the rather sudden attack.

As if to spite the lions' confidence, a pair of screams erupted from the entrance to the area he had just mentioned. His fatherly instinct kicking in, Mufasa roared ferociously and bat the pair of leopards that had just now attempted to strike him aside, dispatching both of them in that one blow. It was things like that that amazed Viscus, as there was no telling what parents were capable of when their kids were in danger. He followed the lion inside and he too was suddenly filled with a sort of fury as he saw Simba and Nala being chased by a handful of the shadowy leopards. Viscus wondered why it was that those two were seemingly on everyone's hit list today. Another lioness was also present, the hyena guessing that it was one of the two's mother, judging from how aggressively she was throwing herself at the Heartless. However, her bravado was cut short as one of the beasts tackled her, knocking the big cat into a stone wall and causing her to fall to the ground in a heap, though she was still visibly breathing. Mufasa summarily gave that creature a bite it would not remember, since it was more than enough to take care of it.

Viscus was soon backing him up, jumping between the kids and their pursuers and tackling another of the dark beasts to the floor with a speed-enhanced body slam, his electrically augmented claws digging into the inky black surface of its body and slaying it instantly. Not missing a beat, Mufasa lent his support and thrashed one of the others, knocking it into a third and leaving it open for the hyena to pounce upon. With them out of the way, only two more were present in the den, which had fallen back on using their deadly tails in combination with their fangs to try and tear the pair apart. Viscus bravely jumped into the space between their lashing appendages, ducking underneath one strike while hopping over another, grateful that Mufasa went to follow up and use this chance to take out one of the Heartless while they were focused on him. With a spring and a twist in mid-air to dodge another last, the hyena landed upon the remaining leopard, crushing its form as he put every last kilogram of weight behind his blow. He could not help but smile as the cubs cheered for them, and he would have rubbed the back of his head modestly, if it were not physically awkward for him to do so.

Checking around once more, the group saw that all of the Heartless had been defeated, this time for real. The hyena breathed a sigh of relief and stealthily moved over to the barely conscious lioness while Mufasa inspected his son and Nala for any harm that may have been inflicted upon them. Murmuring a quiet word, Viscus used his healing spell to rid the female of fatigue and mend her injuries. He was glad when her eyes started to flutter open soon after, though he could not blame her for taking a sudden aggressive tone with him. He stood back as she rose to her feet, clearly not happy that a non-lion was within the pride's territory.

"What are you doing within the king's den?" she demanded lowly.

Mufasa cleared his throat and strode up beside the warrior that had held him win the day. "This is the striped hyena Zazu and I had mentioned, my love," he told her in a gentle voice, "the same one that helped to keep our son safe, both earlier today and just moments ago."

"So this is Viscus, then," the lioness said, visibly relaxing and straightening herself out, offering a grateful smile to the boy, "Pardon my previous rudeness. I am Sarabi, the mate of Mufasa and mother of Simba. You have my thanks for helping our boy twice now, it would seem."

Viscus dipped his head in greeting and modesty. "It was no trouble. We are fortunate that nobody was lost during this incident."

"I am relieved that is the case," Mufasa commented, his eyes turning towards the hyena, "but I am curious. You seemed rather familiar with those creatures, and you called upon strange power to fight against them. Just who are you and what are they?"

The hyena laughed tiredly. "I will be happy to divulge everything to you later. Right now, I just want to get some rest after pushing myself through two troublesome situations."

"It has been a rather long day," the lion king admitted, "we shall reconvene in the morning, then."

Viscus nodded and gave each of the monarchs a bow to dismiss himself, flashing a smile over to the tired and still rather rattled cubs before turning to the den's exit. The lionesses regarded him with caution while he descended the rocks back down to the open savannah, where he broke into a steadier trot to both conserve energy and keep a better pace back to his own spot. Because he was in no rush to get back, the hyena found himself wondering where the Heartless had come from. While it was certainly true that the worlds were no longer protected by boundaries, they did not randomly pop into a world unless there was something of significant interest to be found there. That usually meant the door to a world's heart being open, or there being a native of the world with a very powerful shadow in their heart. But he had found neither of those so far, so Viscus found himself struggling to think of why they would appear, since neither of those was a possibility.

_Perhaps they were summoned by someone with significant control over darkness_, he considered internally.

He had come out of his ruminations in front of the entrance to his den, the tiredness of the day starting to catch up with him. He would worry about this sort of thing in the morning, or possibly later in the day, since he was not sure what time it was. He grabbed a pair of fallen branches with his jaw and dragged them partly into his den so that the bundles of leaves on their ends could somewhat cover the entrance, giving him both privacy and a makeshift alarm if anything tried to enter. He lowered himself down into the dirt and curled up on one side, letting out a light huff as he slowly shut his eyes. Again, the unnerving sensation from earlier and the night before sunk into him, but as he had grown somewhat accustomed to it by now, Viscus only continued to let slumber wash over him. After all, if whatever was watching him had wanted to attack, he figured it would have done so by now. And it made no sense to go looking for it, since he would be hard-pressed to find it, especially as exhausted as he was now. With another yawn, his eyes felt like weights had been applied to them, and he felt a phantom rocking in his body as he started to drift off.

What would happen tomorrow, nobody could say for sure. But if he had kept his eyes open for just another moment, he would have caught the gaze of a pair of golden yellow orbs from just beyond the openings in the leaves, and just maybe a snippet of the confident grin that belonged to them.

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**Post-Story Notes**: Viscus' first full day in the Pride Lands was certainly not a dull one, but trouble brews behind the scenes. How will he handle what is to come? Verité returns to the spotlight in the next chapter, where more intrigue awaits him in the big city. Also, I will be recommending music for those to listen to while reading, as another fanfic (whose name escapes me) had a similar thing going for it. A list of these tunes will be posted on my profile as the story progresses. Thank you for reading, as always, and I hope you enjoy the coming events.


	5. 2B: Fitting in with the Crowd

**Chapter 2B: Fitting in with the Crowd**

Verité sighed in boredom as he took another bite at the bacon, egg, and cheese croissant he had picked up from the local diner and took a small swig from a coffee cup to help keep him awake and energized. Wanderlust was gnawing at him, and with a city this size, it was almost too tempting to leave and look around before the rest of the evacuees from Voluntas arrived. That, and everyone around him seemed to give him nothing but strange looks as he spent his breakfast time just sitting right near Xanatos' towering skyscraper, which he had come to learn was known as the Eyrie Building and that it was the tallest and most expensive structure in the city, not to mention the place to be for high-class social parties. He had also discovered that there was a prominent park not too far away, and a large shopping strip just up a couple of streets. Maybe, that same part of him suggested, it would not hurt to at least take in a few of the closer sights. He figured that if he spent a little time looking, he would at least be able to stave off some of the dullness of waiting around. While it may have been a bit of a leap in logic, he concluded that his parents would keep the group from going any further without him, since he had told them to meet at the building, and thus if they showed up while he was out, there was no huge rush to return. Maybe he could find somebody out there who could point out where he could find shelter for his group.

With that, Verité stuffed the last bit of breakfast sandwich into his mouth and washed it down with one more resounding gulp of coffee, taking a napkin to wipe his mouth before moving up to the register and paying for his meal, thankful that all places around here seemed to accept his odd, almost gem-like golden currency. Leaving the establishment, the young man turned his head towards the direction of the shops he had been informed about. Sure enough, he could spot a handful of signs on one street corner that advertised business down in one direction, and so he started to work his way up the street. The way the buildings were so close together, and how the streets were simply packed both enthralled and irritated the young man, for it forced him to navigate through the throngs to get where he wanted to go, and he could have sworn he had received more than one dirty look from the people he passed. He found himself casting glares and was tempted to rudely demonstrate his thoughts of traffic almost running him and other pedestrians down while they were crossing the street, but he decided against it.

A small bit of discomfort set in as Verité realized that he was now pretty much stuck going the same way as the crowd he had suddenly become a part of. On all sides, he was flanked by at least one person, all of them buried in whatever was keeping their attention while they kept on walking forward into the shopping district. As interesting and eye-catching as some of the places he passed were, the young man would not be able to get to check them out if he could not escape from being boxed in. One of the people to his right eventually entered one of the shops, giving him a chance to move over and keep an eye out for a place of interest. An unmarked door caught his eye, settled in a broad wall between two outlets. Verité moved to get away from the group that he had been forced to walk with for the past few minutes once the opportunity presented itself, opening the door he had spotted and shutting it quickly behind him. The boy mentally noted that the next time he came to check the avenue out, it would have to be during a less hectic point in the day.

With a double take, Verité let his eyes float around the shop he had stumbled into. Rows of colorful stones and gems lined shelves high up on the walls, while the familiar form of green and yellow stardust-like potions could be seen bottled up on lower rows, along with the cubic icy blue shape of ethers. The floor was simple hardwood with a red rug that covered most of the space, and the walls were of a similar color to give the place a homier feel. This was made more complete with a brick fireplace behind the display counter, which held numerous belts, rings, and other various fashion accessories. Near the register, propped up on a stool, was a small teddy bear-esque creature, but with a slightly more cat-like face, sporting a coat of creamy white fur and a small round pink nose. A pair of small purple bat wings gently twitched every so often from its back, and an antenna ending in a fuzzy yellow pompom bounced around as it bobbed its head. Its eyes seemed to be perpetually squinting, so Verité could not make out any details on those, and its body was best described as heavy on the torso and head, for the limbs were comparatively small. All the same, it seemed to be able to notice the boy, for it jumped up and hopped on top of the counter, a grin crossing over his face at the sight of the boy.

"Oh, another customer that was able to find my store!" the short thing exclaimed in a surprisingly low-pitched masculine voice, reminding the teen of the sort of character that sounded like he smoked on a regular basis, "I didn't think I'd get another one so soon!"

Verité blinked and took a moment to process both what was going on and what the little creature was talking about. "Um, what are you? What kind of a shop is this? And what did you mean by being able to find your store? The entrance was right between these other two places."

"One question at a time, kid," it said nonchalantly, moving to sit on the edge of the display case closest to the young Master, where he realized that this...whatever it was, was not quite as short as he thought. It had to at least have been four feet tall, now that he had a better look. "First, the name's Mog, and I'm a Moogle...kinda hard to explain just what that is, but so long as you and I are cool, it's good for both of us. Second, this here's a synthesis shop, where you can buy and sell goods such as potions, ethers, and some of the knick-knacks here under the glass and on the upper shelves. If you're feeling generous, you can have me synthesize any materials you find into something like what this store carries, but maybe something that's not in my stock, possibly even better! And third, the door to this place, heck, the whole shop really, is inaccessible to any run-of-the-mill Joe Schmo. It's invisible to normal folks, and I gotta say, I hope you looked both ways before going in, because nothing freaks out a guy quite like watching another walk right through a wall. By ending up in here, though, you've proven you're special in some way, and if my pompom isn't playing tricks on me, you're a Keyblade wielder."

Assaulted with all of this knowledge, Verité was just about ready to tune out until the Moogle's comment about his occupation came up. "Wait, how could you know about that?"

"Wish I could give you a better answer than 'I sorta just know'," Mog stated simply, tapping one foot on the glass under him, "but there isn't one to give. You're not the first one I've met, but hey, for all I know, I could be getting a stream of them any day now. Anyway, now that I've told you who I am and what all this is about, mind returning the favor, kid?"

The young man stayed silent for a few moments, as if he was expecting a longer explanation of how the thing in front of him could determine he could use a Keyblade than what he had been given. When he saw that he was getting no such thing, he sighed heavily. Clearly, this was just one of those times where he had to ignore the weirdness of the situation and just go along with it. "Verité, and I'm from off-world."

"Nice to make your acquaintance!" the Moogle said cheerfully, before giving a light cough into one of his paws, "Anyway, since the last customer left without buying anything, I'm prepared to offer you the use of Mognet's services. By slipping this SIM card into your phone, you'll be able to call me up or one of my associates to do business with you at any time, whether you need supplies, have to unload some dead weight from your pockets, or want us to whip something up. Even better, you can reach us, as well as any other phone that has a Mognet card installed, in all but the spottiest locations. I'd give it to you for free, but I gotta make Munny somehow, so the best I can do is throw it in for free when you make a purchase."

Shrugging at the business logic, Verité picked out a pouch that was made to hold six containers, and summarily had that filled with three each of potions and ethers. Mog nodded to him and accepted the Munny given, dropping the data chip into the young man's open palm. The teen worked off the back casing of his phone, removing the now fairly useless card from its port and replacing it with the one given to him by the Moogle. Upon restarting the device, a completely different background greeted Verité, consisting of a simple black and blue ambience with two apps, one icon of a Moogle-shaped stamp on an envelope labeled "Mognet", and the other depicting a Moogle with a wrench in hand that was called "Mognet Settings". The service bar in the top right corner of the screen was at maximum strength, and Mog explained that the indicator shaped like his head let the boy know that the shop was available to contact. Nodding to show that he understood all of the new functions as they were pointed out, Verité slipped his phone back into his pocket.

With that all squared away, the youth inquired about the objects on the top shelves and what exactly their purpose was. Mog launched into a veritable speech about how, on rare occasions, a piece of the dark shell that comprises a Heartless will remain after its passing. Due to the unusual nature of their forms, these remains were charged with a mixture of energies, allowing them to be refined into more useful items. With enough of these materials, it was even possible to craft the sorts of things that were inside of the display case. The items on the shelf were merely some of the possible shards he could find, and so Mog encouraged the young to go out and discover more. Part of that came in the form of telling the boy that other branches of his business existed on other words, so if he ever got tired of impersonal interaction, he could just find the nearest fuzzy vendor. Verité now understood what he meant when he earlier brought up the concept of synthesis, and made a note to keep an eye out for materials. But since he was here, he figured that he may as well see if the Moogle had any interesting tidbits to share with him.

"I'm curious about something, Mog," he said, the shopkeeper perking up attentively, "You have a shop set up here in the city, so you must know something about the things that go on here. Do you have any information on David Xanatos?"

The Moogle folded his arms over each other as he hummed. "As far as info in general, you could probably ask any schmuck on the street about Xanatos and they'll all tell you pretty much the same thing: he's a pragmatic, genius-level billionaire playboy that goes to all the big shindigs and usually walks away with something that belongs in a museum, most likely paid for in cash.

"But I assume you want the gold and not the dirt, the stuff that corporate execs talk about in their bigshot meetings that they never want the public to know, right?" he asked, leaning in a little closer to the teen, "I heard that his company pulls some pretty dirty tricks when it comes to getting what it wants. Literal hostile takeovers made to look like the work of someone else are just one option out of many that he's taken. I'd turn him in myself if I wasn't, y'know, a strange sight myself around here, not to mention I don't really have any evidence, and I'd rather not think about the kind of legal protection a guy with that much money has. Strong as you think you are, kid, Xanatos is no fool, and I'd advise against mixing yourself up with him. But hey, it's your choice, and I'll get you info on him or anything else around here if you ask. I'm sure the guys running shops on other worlds would do the same for their places if you hit them up."

Verité nodded and thanked the Moogle for his time and services, moving over to the door and opening it slowly. Very carefully, the teen took a look outside of the shop and noticed that the foot traffic had only eased up a little since he had last been out there. Looking both ways and making sure that no one was coming in either direction on his side of the street, Verité quickly stepped outside and began to walk in the direction that held more of the shops.

For the first time since he had split up from the survivors, he allowed himself to drop his worries and indulge in checking out the goods. The usual clothing shop dotted about every third or fourth space on the block, and while some more would be nice, he had always let someone else buy him new threads. An arcade caught his eye and he was almost tempted to check out the games, but he knew that he would be lost in them for some time if he stopped to play, and so he kept on moving. Some electronics outlets also popped up, though Verité had to keep himself from cringing at the older model TV sets and entertainment equipment. It was thoughts like that that made him realize just how spoiled he was back on Voluntas. It was the sight of a video rental store, however, that filled the young man with a pang of nostalgia, as he had not seen one back on his own world for several years. He remembered how every once in a while, Gulbrand would sit down with him and Viscus after a hard day's training to enjoy a movie. Sure, he would grumble at times that he was forced to sit through kid flicks, but the boys would catch him showing a more positive face more often than not.

What little smile he was able to salvage in his current situation faded away into a more somber expression upon recalling that. Sure, he was all too aware of what it meant to have his former Master gone, but Verité had been avoiding thinking about what it was like now that he had passed on. There would be no more summer excursions in the mountains, no more after-school sessions to cram in before working their minds, and no more sparring matches to see if they had gained any more of an edge over Gulbrand. What was worse, of course, was the fact that all of those places where those memories were attached to no longer existed. With everything that had happened, there was no returning to the life he once had, and any attempts at gaining a semblance of it would never replace what he once had. With another sigh, he turned around and began to go back the way he came. A few specialty stores, a small cinema, and several more common fronts later, the boy was back at the intersection he had originally turned off of. He pulled out his phone while looking over at a service station's neon clock, his thumb absentmindedly flicking over the touch screen of his device to set the time on it to be identical to that of the display. It was still morning, though it was quickly approaching noon, and with that in mind, Verité made his way back to the area by the Eyrie Building.

A quick scan around the immediate vicinity was enough to tell the Keyblade Master that the other had not yet arrived, and he could not spot them coming from any direction. He assumed that they had spent another night in the Gummi ship before setting out, and that time was probably taken to gather what little they had before making the trip into the city. Verité also had to admit that the view of the city he had taken in last night left him wondering where exactly they had to land in order to avoid drawing any attention. The city had a tremendous area, larger than he had personally ever seen, so it would take quite some time to get to where he was, regardless of the means used. That having been considered, Verité was still rather bored with his situation, because whether he was looking forward to a reunion with his fellow off-worlders or a night on the town with Goliath and Elisa, he still had to hang tight and wait. And since sitting it out on the steps of the tallest building in town was rather suspicious, he elected to walk around the edge of the block while he let himself take in the hustle and bustle of the day.

Now that he had more time to see to himself without needing to attend to others around him, Verité brought out his phone and clicked on the Mognet Settings app. He watched curiously as a blue border drew itself around the screen and then filled out the background in black, with a menu dropping down that listed off various parameters. He activated a service called "On-Demand Exchange", which came with a tutorial explaining that by texting or sending a voice message to the nearest Moogle vendor, Munny would be deducted in exchange for any items and services needed. He looked over the other options, none of which seemed to be especially useful or appealing at the moment, though he did receive a notice that said to check back more often for updates. With a shrug, Verité decided to test out the ODE, sending a text to Mog to place an order for a protective chain. Once confirmation was sent, the teen was startled to find his Munny pouch suddenly become a fair bit lighter, though its weight was replaced by an object in one of his pockets. Reaching inside, he found the product he had purchased and fixed it around his neck. With an experimental flick of one finger against an arm, which would normally sting just a little, he felt absolutely no pain at all. While he questioned just how the exchange was able to take place, he was thankful that it worked at all and decided that he would make more use of the function in the future.

Just as he put the phone away, Verité spotted his parents coming from the other end of the street that led away from the Eyrie Building. Strangely, he did not see the group with them, which brought up some concern, as he knew that they would not simply abandon the rest. With a shout and waving of his hands in their direction, the boy was able to get their attention, and he could not help but smile when their pace increased after noticing him. Hugs were exchanged as the three came together, with Verité relating last night's events to them. While certainly wary of the presence of Heartless in this world, Mr. and Mrs. Capto were confident that their son could handle any threats that came their way. And as curious as they were about these gargoyles that their boy had run into, they had to suffice for what little information about them he could give, since he had only interacted with them briefly before he had to leave. Verité felt his head drop down automatically after being scolded by his mother for having stayed awake all of last night up to now, though considering when they had arrived, she was a bit lighter and more understanding with her words.

On their end, the group had currently taken up residence in one of the city's homeless shelters, since that was what they effectively were with the loss of Voluntas. After hearing that some of the places around accepted Munny, the two adults started to chat among themselves about what sort of place they might be able to afford. Naturally, this led to a discussion of how they would acquire an income, and what furnishings they would need. Verité simply shook his head and waited for them to finish up before their attention turned back to him. As independent as he was, to them, he was still their only child, and so they preferred that he spend the night with them and the others. However, the Keyblade user was quick to add that he had arranged another meeting with Detective Maza and the gargoyle known as Goliath for later in the evening, mostly so that he could learn about more of the city himself, but also so that he could acclimate the latter to the current era. While it was not pleasing for them to hear, his parents consented to his plans.

But for the rest of the day, Verité proposed that they spend it by taking in the sights, checking out the stores and seeing a few of the attractions around the city. The three walked down towards the mall that the teen had come from earlier, stopping every so often at a shop to see what they were selling and if any of it could be used towards sprucing up a new home. Mrs. Capto made a few entries on her notepad application on her phone to keep for later on when they actually had a place, while her husband looked around to see if there was any way he could get his Munny exchanged for the cash the locals used. After checking for a bit, he managed to earn himself quite a hefty estimate from an appraiser, as the gem-like currency was close enough to real precious stones for the man to be unable to tell the difference, and so Mr. Capto decided to leave him with one of the smaller denominations as payment for his services and for verification. With that done, the exchange took place not long after at a separate outlet, and the family was able to secure a good amount for their troubles in the form of a check, which the patriarch dropped off at one of the local banks after opening a new account with them, which was more trouble than he had initially hoped due to complications like not having a social security number or an ID that was valid. With what they had left afterwards, the three went to the cinema that Verité had passed by before and sat down for a couple of hours to enjoy one of the more popular movies being shown.

Once the production was over, they grabbed a late lunch at a nearby Italian joint, with all three deciding to share an extra-large pizza. The youngest member balanced a slice idly while occasionally taking a few bites, his mind in several different places. Part of him worried about future appearances of Heartless, and he found it odd that more had not already shown up or caused some sort of stir in the streets. None of the people around him, both while he was alone and since he had met up with his parents, were talking about seeing any strange black creatures roaming about either, which made him a bit more suspicious. Then there was the business with Xanatos, whom Verité recalled Mog had warned him to stay away from despite the kind of power the teen was capable of. Just what sort of things was a single man capable of, even if he was the head of an international corporation and had enough money to put a castle on top of his private estate? While he did not fancy himself as arrogant, Verité was firmly confident that the strength afforded to him by his weapon and years of combat training could easily outmatch someone who seemed like he would probably never have to dirty his hands. Then again, Mog could simply have told him to go for it and not care what happened to him, but he did not, though the teen was not sure whether it was because he was one of the Moogle's only customers or if the shopkeeper was genuinely looking out for him and was aware of something about Xanatos that he was not.

After moving on to another slice of the cheese and tomato pie he was enjoying with his family, another thought struck Verité while he was on the subject of the Moogle. Not only had Mog said that the boy was not the first Keyblade wielder he had met, but it also seemed odd that he would bring up a previous customer in conversation, especially if it was in passing. He was not sure whether to assume that said customer was another of his number, or if maybe Mog had met one before coming to this world. Given the unfathomable size of the cosmos, even if only the Realm of Light was counted, it was not too surprising that a Keyblade knight would show up here and there every once in a while. Aside from Gulbrand and Julius, and the mysterious figure that Viscus had fought during their world's last minutes, Verité had never seen any other freely wandering practitioners, though that was primarily due to him never having left his world until recently. It would not hurt to ask Mog for details, but it was a matter that would have to table until his current obligations were out of the way.

With their meal finished, Verité guided his parents on a makeshift tour of the rest of the area by and near the Eyrie Building, pointing out a few of the attractions that he had learned of. The mention of a park caused them to remark that it would be a nice place to see the next day, which their son decided to keep in mind for later. Eventually, they ran out of sights to see that Verité could show them, so they began to walk beyond the area, back in the direction of the homeless shelter that his parents had mentioned the others were at. The sight of newspaper stands, cart vendors, and other curious street sights were foreign to the boy, as he had grown up in a place where they had been nearly nonexistent and a time when they were no longer commonplace. Which was fine with him, since he had Mog to fall back on for any news, but he figured that his parents would want to know as much about what was going on in their potential new home as they could.

It was another hour or so of walking before they reached their destination, which was nestled in a row of brick buildings that looked like they had not seen maintenance in some time. It took a little bit of time to gather everyone together, but when it was done, Verité was surprised at the happy relief they had upon seeing him again. Even the naysayers from the previous night found little reason to complain about their current situation when his decision had helped them find a place for the time being. The teen was glad for that, and more so when he saw the glint in their eyes when he and his parents revealed that their Munny was not worthless here. However, he was hesitant to tell them that the same monsters they had escaped from were hiding in the dark corners of this world as well, mostly because he did not want to quash what hope they now had. Mr. and Mrs. Capto also decided to remain silent on the matter, for the same reasons.

Time passed like a mountain stream, the day quickly starting to while away as the sun began to dip into the horizon. As much as he enjoyed the presence of those who had lived with and around him, the teen knew that he had to leave for now. Keeping in mind what he had intended to do tonight, Verité excused himself from the group and hurried up the stairwell of the shelter, both staff and residents puzzled at his actions. He found the rooftop entrance locked, but a quick bit of magic in the form of a small beam of light from his Keyblade undid the security, allowing him access. He quickly shut the door behind him and re-locked it before taking a look at the stretch of buildings in front of him. It took a few seconds for him to scan the skyline and locate the Eyrie building, but once he did, he brought his hands together and focused his energy.

"If I'm going to get back there in time, I'll need to cheat a little," he murmured to himself, dipping his head as one of his hands building up a golden red glow while the other took on a violet hue, "I know you always said never to use my powers in public unless it was a dire situation, Gulbrand, but I have a bad feeling about some of the things that've been going on lately. Time for some hasty Low-G roof jumping!"

Verité redirected both lights towards his feet and then took a few steps back before running towards the edge of the short wall that separated the top of the building from the streets. In the blink of an eye, he reached the very end, and with a little extra push off the balls of his feet, went soaring over the gap between the shelter and the next structure. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, the teen touched down gently on the other side and just as quickly made the leap towards the next rooftop. At times, he had to adjust by jumping much higher or lower due to the varying heights of each landing he reached, but it was a blast all the same to him. The sun fell lower in the sky as the youth bounded over the rooftops, more than halfway down once the effects of his spells wore off and had to be recast. The magic was pushed further as Verité was forced to scale even higher structures once he was only a few minutes from the Eyrie Building, almost missing a few jumps due to the increased spacing.

By the time he was in the general vicinity of the place he needed to go, the boy had nearly depleted his arcane stores. Reaching into his recently purchased pouch, Verité took an ether cube and placed it under his tongue, the minty object melting against his warm and moist organ. Once it had completely converted to liquid, he swallowed and instantly felt his energy shoot back up to full, a cool and foggy breath spraying from his mouth as he let out a sigh of satisfaction. But then there was the problem of knowing where exactly to go after that. It had been much easier to determine at the top of the castle, and when one was relatively closer to street level with many similar places around, it was much more difficult. So Verité decided to wait until the sun was fully set, making sure to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Fortunately for the teen, he did not have to wait too much longer after that.

Once night had fallen, he barely managed to spot the form of Goliath out of the corner of one eye. He was gliding towards a nearby building, where a car had just parked on the street just moments before Verité saw him. Assuming it to be Elisa, the boy quickly started to resume his roof jumping, and was only a couple of building lengths away when the gargoyle landed. Another hop and Elisa made herself visible by walking out from the only access to the top of the building that they had agreed to meet at. And with one final leap, his magic wore off and his shoes clacked noisily on the hard surface, startling the other two before they realized who it was. Verité did not notice until he was right there, however, that another of Goliath's clan, the elderly looking one in particular, had followed him and arrived shortly before the teenage human did.

"I got here as quickly as I could," the brown-haired boy said after voluntarily dismissing his magical enhancements, turning to face the gargoyle that had tailed Goliath, "Though I must admit, I was not expecting an extra face. Have you decided to join the three of us for a tour of the city...err, I don't believe I caught your name last time."

The portly creature shot him a glance that was somewhere between amused and exasperated. "It is because I have none. Must you humans name everything? Nothing's real to you 'til you've named it, given it limits."

"It's not like that," Elisa jumped in, trying to explain the concept, "It's just that, well, things need names."

The gargoyle gave her a look and raised his hands to point at the stars and out towards the closest body of water that was not the ocean. "Does the sky need a name? Does the river?"

"The river is called the Hudson," the detective pointedly replied, a small grin plastered on her face.

With a heavy sigh, the gargoyle folded his arms and regarded her words. "Fine, lass, then I will be the Hudson as well."

Verité thought that it was a good name, and Elisa seemed to be content with it as well. She brought up the question of how they were going to explore the city without people seeing them, with Goliath simply stating that they would stick to the rooftops. For the Keyblade user among them, that was no problem, and the gargoyles could easily glide their way through the air. But that left the sole woman among them without a way to follow or keep up, but the leader of the castle's clan solved this dilemma by lifting her into his arms. Verité told them that he had his own way of getting around, and thus Goliath need not burden himself with the weight of two people. The three of them looked back at the newly christened Hudson as they prepared to set out.

"Coming, Hudson?" the raven-haired gargoyle asked of the old fighter.

Another sigh came from the older male as he looked between them and the Eyrie Building. "I think not. This new world is too big, too bright, too loud. Now that I know you're all right, I'll return to guard the castle."

And with that, Hudson took flight and went back the way he came, leaving the two humans and their companion alone. Elisa broke the silence by asking what sights they wanted to see first, with Goliath expressing a grim, but understandable interest in what dangers lurked about for his kind. Verité held back a snicker at the detective's remark about being brought down by the big guy's seriousness, but he too was curious about threats other than the Heartless that could await him if he took the wrong turn. However, the boy could not help but grin from ear to ear as the other two gawked at his capacity for jumping while under the effects of a couple spells. Goliath was quick, however, and his speedy gliding soon overtook Verité, who compensated by putting more strength behind each superhuman leap, sometimes skipping one, two, or even three buildings at a time. It was hard to keep himself from crying out how awesome this was, and more than once, he catapulted himself so high in the air that he almost touched the gargoyle's talons. It made him shudder to think that there were Keyblade Masters that could accomplish this without using any aids, but he was excited at the prospect of being among them one day.

Every so often during his jumps, Verité would catch snippets of conversation between Elisa and Goliath, with the latter remarking about the feats humanity had achieved during his thousand-year slumber. To the humans in his company, such things were a mundane and common sight, but they knew they would be pretty shocked too if they woke up after a millennium and saw how different the world around them was. He himself was still adjusting to being on an entirely new planet, part of him wondering if this would be where he would ultimately stay if he ever decided to retire and settle down. But, he had no idea when that would happen, if ever, because he still had many other things to consider and do before then.

When the traveling trio looked down next, they saw a man standing near a broken down car, a small group of thugs brandishing various crude items as weapons while they moved in. Verité pointed to a nearby alleyway, which Elisa understood and directed Goliath to go along with it, and though the gargoyle had a questioning look on his face, he went along with it. Once they had managed to slink into the narrow side street, the young man jumped down from the nearest rooftop to a comfortable distance from the situation, thanking the low gravity spell for providing a softened landing from such a drop. Elisa had taken the initiative and distracted two of the punks, drawing them into the alley where Goliath would no doubt be waiting for them. The boy, on the other hand, pursed his lips together and let out a low whistle just loud enough for the remaining man to notice. He was wielding a baseball bat and sporting a cocky grin that only a guy who thought he was tough would be wearing on his face.

The man sneered, lightly hitting the side of his weapon against the palm of one hand in an attempt to seem threatening. "This night just keeps getting better and better," he said in a predatory tone, "First a lady cop and now some kid who just couldn't mind his own business. How about you hand over that little money pouch you got there, boy?"

"Now that's funny," Verité laughed derisively, taunting the man with one hand to come and try to get him, "You bring that bat with you all the way from your Little League practice?"

This riled up the thug pretty nicely, as the young man could tell from the scowl that emerged on the guy's face. "Got a mouth on you, huh? Well, I was gonna let you off the hook if you just gave me your cash, but now I'm gonna take it from you after I beat you black and blue!"

The teen waited patiently as the guy charged him and attempted to swing his bat into the side of his head, but the man was surprised to see Verité bring up his right hand and stop the blow. With a twist of his own arm, the boy bent his assaulter's at a decisively uncomfortable angle before punching down into the thug's elbow with his left fist. This produced the desired result, as the punk let go of his weapon to clasp at his no doubt painful injury, which Verité threw up and flipped into a whirling circular blur, catching it by the handle when it came down. He brought it up in a backhanded diagonal arc to smack the man's chin, before slamming the wooden pole onto the guy's right shoulder. The punk cried out from the blow, but it abruptly become an agonized gasping cough when Verité thrust the tip of the bat straight into his gut. Taking the improvised weapon in both hands and twirling his body around in an anticlockwise motion, the young Keyblade Master cracked it brutally over the thug's head, knocking the fellow right out and down to the pavement. Verité tossed the broken bat to the side, the last bit of splinters keeping it whole giving in and splitting in two upon hitting the nearby brick building's wall.

On Goliath's end, the other two attackers were quickly being dealt with, the boy wincing slightly as he saw one of them, who was wielding a steel pipe, was summarily disarmed and tossed roughly into a dumpster, the lid shutting on his backside rather hard. The other was simply taken by the head and given a one-hit knockout courtesy of the gargoyle's free hand. The onlooker that had just avoided a mugging was terrified by the sight of Goliath and intimidated by Verité's show of force, and he ran off as quickly as he could. A woman that had been sitting in the car jumped out and ran to catch up with him, both screaming. The young man shook his head and crossed his arms as he watched them go.

"Human gratitude?" Goliath said in an unamused grunt.

Elisa shrugged indifferently. "I guess. But you know? The two of you may be the best things that have happened to this city in a long time."

"Is it really that bad?" Verité asked out of curiosity.

The detective thought about it for a moment before answering. "Well, it could always be worse. But crimes go on more often than most people would think. Even if only a small percent is committing them, a fraction of millions of people is still a lot. That said, I'd like to think the NYPD is doing a pretty good job keeping convicts collared."

The teen could certainly see that. It was not hard to believe that a city as big as New York would be experiencing disturbances on a frequent basis. And he would not be surprised if there were some bad apples in positions of high authority that kept things going the way they were. In his opinion, Verité thought that the sight of Heartless would be more common in a place like this, but he was more than aware that was not the case. He knew that there was a certain something missing for that to be true, as one did not become a denizen of darkness exclusively through bad deeds. Even the best people, he had been taught, could suffer such a fate if they are forced through enough trauma. Perhaps very few went through the surge of emotion that could trigger the transformation, or maybe more realistically, they were taken care of before that could happen. And he was well aware that there were only two real possibilities for criminals that were "taken care of".

Goliath made it known that he was ready to move on, taking to the rooftops once more with Elisa holding onto his neck while he climbed the side of a building. The boy with them jumped up to the nearest fire escape stairwell and ran up the steps, soon meeting them on top of the structure they had scaled. The gargoyle sought a more peaceful location, to which Elisa suggested that a visit to Central Park would be a good fit. Verité was in agreement, though he had wanted to wait until he could go there with his parents. At least this way, he would be able to determine whether it was a good spot for them to check out. The teen waited for Goliath to take to the air and Elisa to guide him, soon after reapplying his spells and following the duo just as he had before. While a little costly as far as expending energy was concerned, Verité found roof hopping was an efficient way to travel if one did not possess the ability to fly or glide. But while it was certainly faster than walking, and maybe cars if the circumstances were right, it still took a while to get somewhere.

By the time the three of them had reached their destination, Verité had used up another ether to replenish his magic reserves. He had also descended back to the street upon realizing that there were no buildings for him to leap to in the Park. Checking the time on his phone, he was rather surprised to see that it was already rather early in the morning, only a couple hours from daybreak. It was only now that the young man realized how tired he was getting, especially considering that he had not taken time to sleep since he arrived on this world. His pacing had become sluggish, and every few minutes, he had to stifle a tear-inducing yawn. This did not keep him from chuckling, however, at Elisa's comment that with Goliath around, they pretty much had no worries about being mugged or otherwise accosted. It was only a few moments later, unfortunately, that the detective was rather abruptly proven wrong.

A small group of people suddenly surrounded the trio, all of them dressed in sleek black and silver body armor with red visors covering their eyes, leaving every inch of their forms covered except for the rest of the faces. One of them brought up a rifle and fired a tranquilizer at the gargoyle, the stinging prick of the needle causing Goliath to growl out in pain. Immediately afterwards, he was tackled to the ground by three of the strangers, while another moved behind Elisa and pinned her arms to her back, preventing her from easily breaking free. Verité had been jolted into an alert state by the sudden attack, but he was just as quickly seeing stars after a hard blow struck him in the back of the head, no doubt the butt of a rifle held by one of the men. The boy fell to his knees and felt the cold tip of a barrel pushed up against the spot he had been hit, one hand roughly grasping at his hair and forcing him to stare straight ahead, though his vision was still a little spotty from the daze he had been sent into.

"What do you want?" he heard Elisa demand of the people.

The sound of a pistol being drawn and its safety switch being clicked met the teen's ears, along with a voice he was not familiar with. "We're just tying up loose ends," a man answered her, pausing for a moment and allowing Verité's sight to catch him aiming his gun at Goliath, "Once you're out of the way, we'll hunt down those others like you."

"No, I won't...let you," the gargoyle shot back, though it was clear from his trailing voice that the sedatives in the dart were starting to get to him.

The only free-standing member of the attackers, no doubt their squad leader, grinned in amusement at the rebellious words of his target. "What makes you think you've got a choice?"

Elisa, however, was not going to stand idly by. She drew up one foot and slammed it down into the boot of her captor as hard as she could, the man letting out a small shout and releasing her. This gave Goliath enough motivation to fight against the drugs seeping into him and throw off the three that had wrestled him down. Predictably, the one that had a gun to Verité's head raised it up and attempted to fire at the escaping quarry, but the boy called his Keyblade into his right hand and slammed the flat side of his weapon into the guy's right shin. This caused the man to crumple to the ground, clutching at his leg while leveling curses at the teen, but these were cut short when a slash from the mystical blade cleaved the barrel of his gun right off. Verité concentrated a deep violet energy into his free hand and brought it close to him as he started after Goliath and Elisa, his head turning back to the group that were just now trying to recover from the unexpected resistance.

"There is one word that gives us that option," he jeered, arcing his left arm in a horizontal motion and letting them watch the dark light trail with its motion, "Drift!"

In an instant, a circular wave burst forth from the middle of the attackers and swept over their feet, propelling them several feet into the air and causing all of them to cry out in pain. But just as he had done to himself when landing atop the Eyrie Building, Verité had forced them to hang in midair, tumbling over themselves as they futilely tried to right their positions. Knowing that they would only be hampered by the spell's effects for, at most, another ten seconds, the young man beat feet and took Goliath's left arm over his shoulders. With Elisa managing the other, the three of them made a break for it, ducking their heads low as gunfire started to come after them, though it struck them as strange when it stopped just as abruptly as it started.

They made it to a path under one of the bridges, stopping to rest for a bit from their pursuers. The dart that had been embedded in Goliath's shoulder was summarily removed by Elisa, along with a small rounded device with a tiny antenna that she found on his back. She identified it as a radio transmitter and came to the conclusion that it was how those people were able to locate them and set up the ambush using this transmitter. How it got on Goliath was anyone's guess, but Elisa was not about to sit around and wait to find out. Instead, she calmly walked over to a stray dog and was able to get it to settle down after a minute of gentle talking and motions. The detective slipped the transmitter under the canine's fur and shooed it away before moving back to Goliath and prompting them to continue.

The sun was already beginning to come up, reminding Verité that he had just endured another night without sleep and causing his body to feel ever heavier, the gargoyle's weight not helping the latter sensation. "Too late," he heard Goliath slur tiredly, his steps becoming more and more uneven with every passing moment, "I'll never make it back before sunrise."

"Before sunrise?" Elisa asked him curiously.

Verité also wondered what he meant by that. "Why is it important that you get back before sunrise, Goliath?"

"You'll see," was all the gargoyle could mutter before kneeling down on his haunches, obviously too tired to go on.

The humans slipped out from under his arms to give him a chance to catch his breath. Both of them could pick up voices that were nearing their position, at least one of them recognized as the man that had spoken to them before when they were assaulted. Verité took out the last of his ethers and lazily slid it under his tongue to get his magic back and to try and wake himself up a little more. It worked, but what he saw after regaining some sense of his surroundings was not what he expected. Goliath's form began to grow pale and craggy, his skin turning from its characteristic nightly shade to a brighter and duller tone. His eyes slowly shut, the transforming flesh molding over it and fusing together as the sun's rays shined down on him. In but another moment, the gargoyle had become a statue, every inch of his body now solid stone. Verité now understood why Goliath had been rather distressed about not making it back to the Eyrie Tower before now. Stone was durable, but there were far too many things that could chip or break it in this day and age, and the boy could only imagine how helpless the gargoyle felt being forced into such a state far from his place of safety.

Elisa had been keeping an eye out and only now just noticed what had happened. She was all too aware that the added weight from Goliath's transformation would make him impossible to move, and Verité was in no position to disagree or attempt to prove her wrong. Without warning, the detective ran out into the open and past the group that had attacked them earlier. The teen waited until they were starting after her before sprinting out past their rear, whistling just loudly enough to catch their attention. It made the mysterious people stop for a moment to consider their options, with the leader soon after ordering them to split into two groups of three to take them down. While he and two others, including a female commando, went after Elisa, Verité was chased by the remaining numbers, among them the fellow that had nearly knocked him senseless.

The teen jumped over tree roots and sprang across low hills while he was followed, once more bringing out his Keyblade to prepare for the worst. This time, however, he immediately shifted his weapon into its shield form and turned himself around enough so that he could cover his back while still running forward. He murmured a few words as his other hand traced along the edge of the shield, a glossy sheen spreading over its surface. And none too soon, a steady stream of bullets came his way, with most of them missing entirely thanks to him keeping a move on. Those that were closer to their mark were deflected by a transparent barrier that had been erected the moment his spell was finished, and Verité was thankful that it covered more area than just his Keyblade. While this defense worked well for him, he was still concerned for Elisa, who had not yet replaced her own handgun after it had been crushed by Goliath the night before last, not to mention was being chased by the same number of people. He would have to find her after he dealt with his own company.

His worries were interrupted as a distressed yell came from the commandos that had been chasing him, and when Verité turned around to look, his expression darkened. Heartless had shown up, similar to the small, antennae-bearing ones he had seen on Voluntas, but much more dangerous. Their bodies were taller and stronger, their heads and limbs more humanoid, their hands sporting more vicious claws than their smaller cousins, their antennae were more jagged and extended far down their backs, and their eyes held a much more menacing look. There were twice as many of them as there were commandos, and Verité knew that the latter trio stood no chance. He saw that one had already been tackled to the ground, smothered by four shadowy beings and struggling against their hold, while the remaining two rushed towards the other men. Guns blazed and bullet flew, but their effect against the beasts was practically nonexistent, the things not even flinching from the projectile fire. Heartless met human and it was over all too quickly.

It had been many years since Verité had seen someone fall to darkness by the hands of its denizens, but it was no less horrifying now than it was then. The Heartless atop the first man had so completely covered him their bodies had become more like a thin veil of oil, which every so often showed the pained and fearful motions of the one fighting against it. Those that had attacked the other commandos had simply stabbed their claws right through the chest of the body armor, felling the boy's former pursuers without any further trouble. Those two were transformed into little more than darkened versions of themselves, their appearances relatively the same save for black markings along the silver armor, menacing talons in place of their gloved hands, and the visors having been done away with to expose the glowing yellow eyes common to most Heartless. On the left breast of their uniform was the familiar emblem possessed by their particular kind of Heartless, which led Verité to assume the other would become one as well. And to him, they did not appear to be terribly strong, so he expected a fairly quick battle.

**(Recommended Listening: Destiny's Force - Kingdom Hearts 1.5 HD ReMIX)**

He was greatly mistaken, both in thinking this fight was in the bag and that all of the commandos would change equally. The third one was warped beyond recognition by the corrupting shadows into something more akin to a demon. His body was stripped of all its protection and replaced by black skin that was accentuated by powerful musculature. Black and orange horns decorated the top of its head, crossing each other in a way that resembled a curved heart when the points touched. His face had become devilish and his now-triangular ears pointed outward horizontally. His feet now ended in two toes with a very long, blood-red claw on each digit, and in one of his still mostly human hands was a red and orange scalloped blade that appeared to have a couple of Kanji characters written on it. A small pair of bat-like wings sprung from his shoulders while a larger pair of fire-colored, feathered wings had grown out from his forearms just below the elbow. He now possessed a tail that ended in a sinister, crescent-shaped blade, and the center of his chest was marked by a hole in the shape of a heart. Because it possessed no emblem, Verité knew that unlike the other two fallen men, this one had become a Pureblood, and its appearance indicated that the former human had housed a significant amount of darkness in his heart.

Its feet suddenly sprouted dark flames underneath its heels as it took notice of the boy, allowing it to somehow close in and hover about with superhuman speed and control. The young man brought up his shield in time to block a slash from the newly-born Heartless' weapon, but before he could reflect the potential damage back onto it, it streamed away and began to fire off several black and purple orbs of energy at the teen. The force of these blasts were so strong that they pushed Verité back while he was blocking them, which the other Heartless attempted to take advantage of by moving in behind him. The boy leapt high in the air and did a backflip over them right as they tried to hit him, causing them to flinch as they were struck by friendly fire, and he shifted his Keyblade back into attack form to give the would-be surprise attackers a finishing slash, freeing their hearts from their dark shells. With six left in total to take down, Verité went to work, jumping forward and delivering a three-hit combo consisting of a jab, backhanded slash and overhead swing to one of the Heartless, reducing it to black wisps in short order. He immediately leapt into the middle of the rest and pushed both of his hands outward, soon surrounded by three spherical flames that tore through just as many of the creatures. Quick thinking allowed him to stave off an attack from the remaining member of the original group, the transparent barrier he had formed earlier shattering into sharp blades of light and cutting the offender apart. With them out of the way, that only left the newly-made and significantly more powerful one.

It once more tried to close in with a swipe of its sword, but since Verité had been given no time to set up a new reflecting shell and shift his weapon into its defensive state, he was limited to blocking it with his Keyblade still in attack form. To his surprise, the Heartless used its free hand to try and fire off a point-blank shot of dark energy, narrowly missing him only because he had decided to break away from the blade lock and roll out of the way at the last moment. He was forced to duck again just as he stood up, for the being had swung its tail in the direction of Verité's head. This, however, had proven an effective distraction, as the young man was ill-prepared to try and dodge another volley of shots. While he had succeeded in avoiding most of them, one struck him in the chest and sent him careening across the ground, his arms and legs flailing as he tumbled over and over. Verité jumped to his feet off of the last roll and charged forward, slashing at the Heartless and finding his weapon blocked in turn. However, his free hand flung a shard of ice into its midsection, and while it appeared to not do much in the way of damage, it was sufficient in forcing the beast to back off. The boy took this opportunity to press the advantage, managing to land a few hits with his weapon before being pushed back himself. It was clear now that he was hurting the Heartless, but it would take more to bring it down.

The dark being threw its sword into the ground and vanished into thin air, leaving Verité a little confused as to what it was up to. He did not have to wonder for long, as a circle of dark flames began to swirl and dance around him, every second going faster and drawing in closer. Suddenly, the attack stopped, which caught the boy off guard long enough for the fire to converge on him and erupt in a violet-colored explosion, the force launching him into the air. His ears were ringing from the blast, his body was aching and head spinning, barely managing to keep his eyes open after the damage he had been dealt. The Heartless reappeared by its discarded sword and retrieved it swiftly, making its way towards the Keyblade wielder while he was still vulnerable. Verité's instincts told him to curl into a ball and keep his weapon out in front of him, and luckily, he made the right choice, as it helped to repel the creature's attempted follow-up. Gravity began to kick in and the teen righted his body so that he would land on his feet. The moment he touched down, he pushed off the ground and brought his free hand to the monster's face to stun it while his sword arm contributed a single downward slash, succeeding in knocking the Heartless out of the air.

But the denizen of darkness was not finished yet. It resumed its long-ranged assault from before, but this time, it sent its sword after Verité using a bit of telekinetic control, or at least, that was what the boy assumed it to be. Forced to dodge with the hailstorm of energy headed his way, and too busy blocking to try and attack, the youth could only make strides towards getting closer. With so much going on, he could not get enough time to concentrate on buffing up his speed, but even if he could, he knew that his arcane reserves were starting to dry up. And so he had refrain from using magic for the moment, more so because he had no more ethers in reserve. When the stream of orbs ceased their continuous onslaught, the Heartless moved in and tried another tail swing at the same time it commanded its sword to strike at Verité's head. The opportunity for a clean and painless cleave was lost when the boy ducked under the two-pronged assault the second before either blade could have a go at his neck. With a daring lunge, Verité yanked the Heartless' weapon out of the air and thrust it into the chest of the creature, causing it to recoil from the ferocious strike.

It was enough of a distraction for the young man to pull off his next move. Both hands pointed towards the Heartless and a quick spark ignited between them. "Collapsing Reflect!" he shouted, the same transparent, honeycomb-shaped barrier he called on many times before now surrounding his target.

To his delight, the Heartless attempted to hack at the confines, and it was delivered a nasty surprise in the form of the shape shattering into hundreds of sharp needlelike projectiles that drove into every inch of its body. Stunned by this unusual form of attack, the demonic being was ill-prepared for Verité's final strike. The boy took his Keyblade in both hands and jumped up so that he was level with the Heartless before spinning around in a devastating slash, feeling his weapon cut right through the middle of the creature's form. Landing back on his feet, Verité looked back at the foe and a smile cut into his features as it twitched for a few moments before it fell towards the ground. At the moment of its impact, it seemed to melt into a pool of darkness, its body having fallen still all the while, and after a short while, the umbral puddle evaporated into black smoke. To celebrate, he brought out one of his potions and held it out in front of him, giving an imaginary toast before throwing his head back and chugging down the colorful contents. Despite its friendly appearance, the taste of liquid candy was almost sickeningly sweet, making Verité nearly cough back up what he swallowed. In moments, the burns, cuts and scrapes from his battle had scarred over and mended themselves, leaving only the holes and tatters his clothes had gained during the struggle.

**(End Listening)**

But now, he was not sure where he had left Goliath, given that he had run pretty far in order to elude the commandos. Looking around, Verité noticed a plume of smoke in one direction, so he decided that would be the first thing to check out. When he arrived, there was nothing but the splintered and smoldering remains of a boating shack and its pier. As he searched the area, he noticed that a few patches of ground were muddy, which was odd considering that the rest of the soil around those spots was completely dry. Seeing it as a clue of where to go next, he gauged the direction that the wet points were going and followed their lead, heading into the trees and noticing that the path was becoming a bit rockier as he went on. Two sets of footprints became visible once the trail's vegetation became a little sparser, one that clearly belonged to the boots of a commando while the other most certainly were made by Elisa. Verité picked up the pace, fearing for his recently newly-made friend and the trouble she had caught herself up in.

His worries were soon proven to be unnecessary, for just before he reached the top of the hill, he saw the detective retrieving her red jacket from a branch. A couple of body lengths away was the prone form of the leader of the commandos, clearly unconscious and looking none too good. Verité let out a sigh of relief, which caught Elisa's attention just as she had slipped her coat back on.

"You're alright!" she exclaimed, coming over to him and noticing how torn up his clothes were, "You look like you've had it pretty rough. What happened?"

Verité turned his eyes down and frowned. "The commandos that were chasing me were suddenly ambushed by Heartless. For whatever reason, two of them become Emblems, while the third one turned into a Pureblood. I don't know what was in that guy's heart before he was changed, but what it produced put up a hell of a fight. I managed to take care of them all, but what bugs me is that those original Heartless kinda showed up out of nowhere. They're attracted to Keyblade users and those with great shadows in their hearts, and yet their attacks have been infrequent. It's almost like they're being controlled, and if that's the case, I have a suspicious feeling I know who'd be behind it."

"Let's talk about it on the way back to Goliath," Elisa said, starting back down the trail, "We need to make sure he's okay."

There was no argument there. Verité revisited the story of how he arrived in New York with the detective, tracing back to when he witnessed Viscus fighting the mysterious figure. He explained that, because the stranger could wield a Keyblade and had defeated a Keyblade Master, not to mention was expertly versed in dark forms of magic and other shadowy techniques, then it was not unreasonable to assume that he was a Master of Darkness. He went on to say that individuals with a deep enough darkness in their hearts that had strong enough control over it were capable of performing feats such as commanding Heartless. As beings of instinct, they would follow the strongest individual with a nature that was close to their own. Verité posited that, given the sort of strength Masters have, that Masters of Darkness could easily enthrall legions of Heartless, and he knew there were stories that could verify his claim. Thus, he concluded that the man who his friend had fought was the one responsible for these rather calculated outbreaks.

But then, he felt that he could just as easily be wrong. For all he knew, attacks here were just _that_ infrequent, and the groups he had run into have just been coincidental occurrences. He wanted to worry about all that later, though, because the full weight of going more than a day and a half without sleep coupled with continual strenuous activity was starting to sink in. The moment they came back to Goliath's petrified form, he slumped onto the grass and put his hands behind his head. Elisa offered him her jacket to lay his head on, but he politely declined. "I don't want it to get real dirty from me tossing and turning on it," he said.

"It's already been in the water, scuffed up a bit and almost shot to pieces," she replied, giving him a smart grin and almost shoving her jacket towards him, "I think it could handle being under your head for a while."

Smiling, Verité accepted and folded it so that his head could be gently propped up, allowing him to lace his hands over his navel. And like a light, he was out in less than a blink.

**-Eyes in Many Places-**

Xanatos had been sparring with Owen in the dojo he had built into his home high up in the Eyrie Building when his phone had decided to go off. He moved swiftly, but calmly towards the table he had left it on and picked it up, flipping it open with his thumb and bringing the receiver to his ear. "Talk to me."

"My friend has just left this world," came a familiar tone from the other end, "As for my designs, they did not come out exactly as expected, but the results work well enough for my purposes. Have you heard from any of the others?"

The business man put on a confident smile as he wiped his forehead with a towel. "Everything seems to be in order, if they're to be believed. You're the first one done, believe it or not."

"Flattering, but do remember what I told you about the Keyblade," the other voice warned, "Nothing you build can render such a weapon useless. Resistant to it, perhaps, but certainly not impervious. I'm not worried about you, however, I'm just giving a friendly reminder. After all, you're a smart man, so I'm sure you can outmaneuver this intrusive factor."

And with that, the line disconnected, leaving Xanatos to close his phone and resume his normal expression. There was no real need to keep the Keyblade wielder on the other side of things, he thought, so why not make a move and attempt to gain his trust? If he could take advantage of the power that boy had, then it would make things so much easier going forward. Especially if his suspicions about Goliath turned out to be true.

/\

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**Post-Story Notes**: This chapter was definitely focused more on the character than the world at first, and I certainly took liberties with the source to fit the story I'm trying to tell, but I'm satisfied with how it turned out. Next chapter will be Viscus' further exploits in the Pride Lands. Please tell me what you think of the little additions of recommended listening as well.


	6. 3A: Loss Never Comes Easy

**Chapter 3, Side A: Loss Never Comes Easy**

_Another day, another successful hunt._

These were the words that rang in Viscus' mind as he carefully seared the tender meat of a young zebra he had brought down just minutes before. No doubt the thing's mother was still cursing him for taking its life, but it had been the logical and instinctual approach. Predators went for the young and the elderly members of their prey groups almost all the time, and while the hyena had no real love for killing, sating his hunger took priority over feeling pity for the deceased creature's family. He knelt down and took an experimental bite of the cooked flesh, chewing at the strips in his mouth for a few moments before deciding to swallow. It was nearly frightening how enjoyable he found the taste, especially when he was sure he would never have deigned to eat such a thing if he had been in human form. But there was no use in fretting over it, a part of him reasoned, and so after another minute of cautious application of fire magic, he hastily dug in. His ravenous feeding could be heard by other frequenters of the watering hole, who were no doubt intimidated by both the sound and the sight of a striped hyena tearing into a rather fresh meal. He could swear a few of them were making rather unsavory commentary about his actions, but it mattered little to him with the appetite he had worked up from the day before.

After polishing off almost half of the zebra colt, Viscus dragged it back into the confines of his den and used more of his arcane energy to put it on ice for the time being. With a stretch and a yawn to work out the last of his tiredness, he strode back out and took a few deep drinks from the pool nearby to wash everything down. He then jumped into the water and made a loud splash, treading around a little bit before swimming back over to the shore, dripping wet and feeling much more awake than before. He shook off the temporary weight from his drenched fur and took in a breath, sighing out pleasantly from the refreshing feeling. The hyena then began to trot in the direction of Pride Rock, for he knew that there was business to attend to there.

Viscus knew that explaining what the Heartless were to Mufasa was not going to be too difficult a thing to do. It was talking about them without explicitly revealing any details about his true nature and the fact that he was from another world that would be a little tricky. But then, nobody said that he had to necessarily lie about it. If he put his mind to it, Viscus could probably weave his story in such a way that it was true but vague, though he was not sure if that would get past the lion without raising any sort of red flags. Then there was still the matter of the abilities he had displayed in plain sight for all to see the previous night. Hopefully, he could find a way to avoid that discussion, but something inside him told him that it was unlikely. It was pretty hard to ignore someone running up a wall and then harnessing the power of the elements, not to mention all the little acrobatics involved.

What had Viscus on edge more than anything, however, was the sensation of being watched, which had persisted, with few exceptions, ever since he had arrived in this world. How he had managed to sleep through the night with eyes seemingly glued to his every move was beyond him. As unnerving as it was, the boy could not deny that it was a rather familiar feeling, one that he had experienced on more than just a couple occasions. His memory was a little fuzzy on the matter, but he could have sworn that this world was hardly the first one in which that had come into play. For the life of him, though, he could not figure it out, and while he decided to table the matter for now, it did nothing to rid him of the itch to find out. He was thankful that now was not one of those times where he felt those eyes on him, or he probably would have broken off his meeting with Mufasa and chased after whoever or whatever was spying on him.

The teenage hyena picked up the pace as he made his way towards the home of the lions, the warm and fertile land of the savannah feeling rich and comfortable beneath the pads of his paws. The sun beaming down filled him with warmth and helped to dry his coat while the cool winds kept his attention crisp and focused. It looked to be a good day, but then, days could be deceptive in what they held, and Viscus knew all too well how they could turn out. Experience had taught him that things could go south really quickly, and it was kind of hard not to swing between being in a good mood and a bad one when such an event had occurred more than once. It was how those days had started, he began to think, but he quickly shook his head to stave off those thoughts. He would not allow that to happen as long as he was around.

When he arrived, he saw Simba being led away by another lion, one with darker fur and a black mane, a pale scar visible over his left eye. The cub gave him a friendly greeting and he responded in turn, while the adult regarded him with a cold and seemingly accusatory stare as he passed by. Simba gave a brief introduction for his uncle, Scar, and told Viscus that the two of them were going out to take a long walk around the savannah because his relative had something he wanted to tell him in private, away from Mufasa's ears. The hyena thought it odd to pace around for a time just to talk, but it must have been really important if they were willing to go to such lengths. Bidding them farewell for now, Viscus continued up the path towards the rocky incline, giving a light bow of the head to each lioness he passed. Sarabi met with him at the top of the rise outside of the King's Den, walking with him the rest of the brief trip to the inner sanctum of the pride's home. Just as Viscus had expected, Mufasa was waiting for the two of them along with his trusted majordomo. The hyena gave a deeper bow to the king and stood up straight afterwards to show he meant to move onto business as soon as possible. Zazu chose that moment to exit and scout around the lands as part of his daily duties, proclaiming that he would return as soon as he was finished.

Viscus started off by giving the information he knew about the Heartless. He described them as beings formed from the negativity within the heart, and that they hailed from that inner darkness, which was most certainly true. The hyena told Mufasa that in many lands, both near and far, there were those who were blessed with the ability and means to effectively fight the shadowy creatures, and that these individuals had to keep their skills sharp and travel extensively to stamp out the Heartless menace wherever they went. While more true than not, Viscus took special care to avoid bringing up that "other lands" also included worlds beyond the one on which they stood. He explained that his foes could take on as many shapes as there were animals, and then some, stating that some could be formed from an otherwise immobile object or living thing, such as a tree. And though it was important to stay vigilant, the Heartless were capable of appearing almost anywhere at any time, though they were usually attracted to those with the means to fight them and those with exceptionally strong darkness festering in their hearts. What was worse was that some in the latter camp could take advantage of this and have the creatures do their bidding, and he was quick to tell the king of the lions that he suspected someone with such control was responsible for the sudden strike that happened the previous evening.

"So, the attack was deliberate, but not on part of the Heartless?" Mufasa asked, making sure he was getting everything right.

Viscus nodded his head affirmatively. "I believe that to be the case. I had not encountered a single one of them when I entered this land until last night, so I thought it was rather strange that they chose to suddenly show up. Heartless are clever, but they rely on sheer strength or force of numbers to overcome opposition far more often than any sort of carefully coordinated assault. It was like they went out of their way to make sure they could not easily be ganged up on, and to me, that's almost certainly evidence that someone or something had a hand in it. If they had just shown up by coincidence, they would have been more interested in me, since I have the power to fight them on even grounds. Taking care of the one that presented the greatest threat should have had more priority, and yet until I started attacking them, they pretty much ignored me."

"That does seem suspicious when you put it that way," the lion concurred, pacing around on the stone platform he typically reserved for rest, "But I'm more concerned about the fact that they could strike anytime, even without guidance. Is there no way to predict their coming?"

Viscus replied that, unfortunately, there was no tried and true method of being able to pinpoint when a Heartless attack would occur. And of course, what made that worse was that victims of the beasts would become more numbers to add to their legions. The hyena shuddered at the thought, wondering just how many people back on Voluntas were now Heartless and if he had fought any of them during the second invasion. Of course, he had no way of knowing if that was true, and there were more important things to be thinking about. He could not guarantee the safety of Simba or anybody else in the Pride Lands, not even himself, as long as there were Heartless about. And if there really was someone manipulating them from behind the scenes, then that person was probably the same one that had been watching Viscus from afar. The first thing he would do after finishing this meeting with Mufasa was set out and discover who it was that seemed so interested in his movements.

The two decided to step outside and take in the view of the surrounding landscape as they continued their discussion, with Viscus opening up about certain events that happened in his past without revealing his true identity. He shared that his parents had been victims of a Heartless attack when he was young and that it was only because of the intervention of another like him that he was spared from sharing their fate. A friend of his, whom he soon discovered held the same potential for fighting the darkness as he, had adopted him into his family. From there, the hyena spoke fondly of Verité, about how they had been friends since early childhood and did many things together, becoming ever so slightly closer as the years went on. Mufasa listened on happily, as the stories that Viscus shared sounded very much like the sorts of things Simba and Nala would engage in, and he pointed out that the hyena's friendship with this person he spoke of mirrored that. Though he wondered just where Verité had gone, Viscus knew that the other boy could handle himself in most situations.

But then, this was not like most situations. Most people were not forced to depart from their home world as it was consumed by darkness. The majority, even among Keyblade wielders, were not forced to accept their former Master's weapon and then engage in a hopeless battle against his killer. And many did not have someone that seemed to be watching their every move at almost all hours of the day since walking into a new world. Viscus remembered that Julius had told him that the Master of Darkness he had fought no doubt had access to many worlds, and it would not be so surprising if that man was the one behind the recent happenings in the savannah and beyond. And it would explain the familiarity he felt while he was being watched. The hyena almost did not notice that he had gone quiet during the middle of the conversation to ponder these thoughts and apologized to Mufasa for trailing off. The lion shook his head, remarking that an eventful life like Viscus' would no doubt often cause one to pause for thought.

Zazu returned just before Viscus could get in another word, saying that all appeared to be fine aside from some unsavory rumors spread by those currently at the watering hole. It was then that a thunderous noise reverberated through the air, causing everyone present to try and locate the source of it. In the direction of the gorge, a massive cloud of dirt was rising, its length only continuing to grow as the commotion went on. A frown crept over Mufasa's muzzle as he observed, while Viscus was clueless as to what was going on. The bird with them, however, had a much better grasp of the situation and it was clear from his own expression that this was an unusual sight.

"Look, Sire, the herd is on the move," Zazu said, concern in his voice.

The lion nodded and hummed quietly, summing up the curiosity with but a single word. "Odd."

The three were treated to the sight of Scar suddenly scrambling up the path to the rocky outcropping that overlooked the Pride Lands, a look of panic on his face. Having apparently been near the site of the currently discussed event, the lion informed them that the wildebeest were currently engaged in a vast stampede, having been spooked by something. Worse, though, was that Simba had been down in the gorge when it started up, and according to the darker feline, was doing his best to stay alive and not get trampled under their hooves. Muttering his son's name in horror in the way that only a parent could when their child was in danger, Mufasa hurriedly told Zazu to make his way towards Simba and let him know that help was on the way. He then burst into a full sprint, with Scar and Viscus following closely behind, the three of them making a mad dash across the grassy plains.

But before they could get too far, they were ambushed by a dozen Heartless, all comprised of the same species Viscus had seen the night before. The trio moved in close to each other, keeping one another's back covered as they faced down this threat. The striped hyena among them growled in frustration at how these things seemed to keep getting in his way and lowly began to mutter a few enchanted words. Moments later, he was cloaked in a fiery red aura and hurled himself into a small cluster of the dark creatures, flames lashing out from his fur and striking the Heartless at the moment of impact. This opened a large enough gap in the horde that they could all slip out if they acted quickly enough. Viscus followed up and made a circle around the group, every so often striking with lightning-imbued fangs to grab their attention. They took the bait and began to focus most of their efforts on him, leaving the lions enough room to get away.

"Go now!" the hyena exclaimed, jumping out of the way of a tail whip from a leopard Heartless and destroying it with a lunging bite to its neck, "I'll handle things here and catch up with you when I'm done!"

Mufasa and Scar heeded his words and made their exit, soon little more than slowly vanishing shapes in the distance. With no others to worry about for the time being, Viscus redoubled his efforts and hastened his speed with another quick casting of a spell. Despite the greater number of foes than himself, their movements were all too clear to him, though he supposed that prior experience was what made it so. In short order, he reduced the formidable numbers of his foes to a fraction of what they were when he started. Of course, since the Heartless were incapable of experiencing fear, this did not slow them down at all. Viscus expected this, but it was no less annoying when your opponents could not see the writing on the wall.

The hyena weaved out of the reach of a bird that was attempting to give him a good socking, responding in kind with a flying leap and knocking it to the ground, his charged teeth reducing it to wisps the moment he bit down. Another leopard struck out at him with its claws, but Viscus deftly avoided the strikes and surged through it with another fiery dash. An antelope charged and tried to gore him with its unnaturally enhanced horns, but the teen was having none of that. He propelled himself right back at the Heartless and spun his body about as he called his Keyblade into his muzzle, the edge of his weapon cutting through the beast and causing it to dissipate and release the heart it had captured. Only a trio of the latter species remained, each of them slowly pacing about the hyena and looking for the chance to strike. When it seemed they were given an opening, they took it, but that was precisely what the striped boy had been waiting for. At the last moment, he jumped away, flipping his Keyblade around in his teeth so that the tip pointed towards the group and blasted them with three consecutive spears of ice. One by one, the Heartless were shattered by the chilly projectiles, leaving Viscus alone and now able to run towards the gorge to catch up with the two lions that were no doubt already there.

Out of nowhere, a dark ball of fire came screaming his way and left the hyena with little more than a moment to slide under it, feeling the heat travel over his back and barely miss him. When he looked up, he saw a mostly white lion with the same shade of black in its main and tail tuft that Scar possessed. Its eyes were a familiar shade of golden yellow, the pupils looking over Viscus with what could only be described as keen interest. The boy was reminded of an almost identical pair of orbs that gazed at him behind the cover of a mask and felt a quiet rage build inside. So great was the anger he experienced that his head felt like somebody had poured boiling water into his veins, his brow feeling as though it was slowly melting.

"You're that man I fought back on Voluntas, aren't you?" he growled dangerously at the lion, his claws digging into the soil.

The feline flashed him a grin and took in a breath through his nose. "Not quite, boy, but I am very much acquainted with him. I know about you and your duties as a Keyblade bearer, and while I would love to test your strength, I am not looking for a fight."

"Funny that you say that _after _trying to hit me with an attack," Viscus retorted, moving to pass around the big cat, but finding him tracking all of his motions, "Move. Someone is in need of my help and you are an obstacle."

The lion let out a low and dark chuckle. "You mean the royal brat. Why waste your energy for someone you met little more than a day ago? Why help these people at all when there is no way for them to aid you, seeing as you keep so many secrets from them? Is it because you are afraid of them suffering the fate that so many others experienced, a fate that a precious few close to you also shared? Or is it that you cannot stand to feel weak when you are unable to make it in time to cause any sort of significant difference?"

"I don't know where you claim to have learned that sort of information," the hyena said, his voice trembling with increasing fury, "but I will not allow you to play mind games with me any longer. Get out of my way right now before I _make _you move."

"No need for that temper, boy. I did tell them I would not let you pass, but I have other ways of making sure your efforts come to nothing. Go ahead and run to the boy and Mufasa if you wish, it will soon matter not. When you arrive, no doubt both the heir apparent and his dearly beloved father will be lifeless."

"What?"

-**A Brother's Usurpation**-

(**Recommended Listening: To Die For - The Lion King**)

Simba clung to the one tree that had been nearby when the stampede had chased him along the bottom of the gorge, all four limbs wrapped tightly around one of its barren branches. Under and around him, the deafening roar of countless hooves shook his whole body, the rumbling and his own weight causing the tree's limb to wobble and bounce precariously. Right now, the lion cub was more terrified than he had ever been in his life. The spotted hyenas were scary, but the striped one called Viscus had come to his unexpected rescue, followed by Mufasa. The black creatures that had attacked the pride in the dead of night were like nightmarish reflections of the animals he saw as prey and as rival predators. Yet even they fell to his dad, and for the second time that day, Viscus had helped save him as well. He had come to expect his father and the rather different hyena to be looking out for him whenever he got into a tough scrape.

But they were not here now. Simba was all alone, shaken with fear, and if he lost his grip, the cub knew that he would be trampled to death.

It had all started when his uncle Scar had brought him into the canyon, having said that he wanted a private word with him. They had come up to another tree that was more verdant than the one he was stranded on now, with rocks surrounding it. And once he had climbed up to the top of them, Scar had told him to wait there, claiming that Mufasa had a marvelous surprise in store for him. Curious as to what it was, the boy had prodded his uncle to tell him, but the older lion had kept his muzzle firmly sealed, determined to keep it a secret. Scar had finally convinced him to go along with it after bringing up the previous day's events and how apparently everyone knew of it now. It seemed odd, though, that Scar had been so insistent that he stay put, but the young lion had assumed that the surprise was just that good. His uncle had said that it was to die for, after all. That and Simba still felt guilty for disobeying his father's wishes. So he had resigned himself to waiting and had grumbled inwardly at his uncle's stealth teasing of his capacity to roar.

He had put it to practice upon spotting a lizard on the rocks, just minding its own business. The first couple of attempts did not provoke much of a reaction from the little thing, but the third had sent it scurrying off in fright. It also produced a rather magnificent echo that reverberated cleanly off the walls of the canyon. But the moment it had faded was when the trouble began. Simba had turned to the source of a low rumbling, and as the seconds passed, it only became louder. When he saw the stampede of wildebeest cascading down the cliffs into the gorge, his blood had frozen. And moments before they were upon him, the cub had finally regained his senses and ran as fast as he could. He had weaved in and out of the way of several of the large animals, only narrowly avoiding being stomped on until he had spotted the tree that he was now clinging to for dear life. He had never imagined that his roar could cause something like this.

As he held tight to the branch, Simba saw Zazu fly down towards him, the hornbill frantically flapping his wings. "Zazu! Help me!" he cried out, his voice barely audible over the cacophony caused by the horde around him.

"Your father is on the way! Hold on!" the avian shouted back in an attempt to reassure the cub, though he could not hide the fright in his voice.

Mufasa and Scar had just arrived at a lower point in the canyon, but still out of the way of the many wildebeest. Their eyes scanned over the landscape, trying to pick out Simba's form amongst the swirling mass of panicked beasts. Fortunately for them, Zazu had spotted them first and pointed out to the larger of the two lions where the cub was. At that moment, a lone member of the herd rammed its head into the tree, nearly causing Simba to be sent flying from the impact and making the young feline scream. Mufasa jumped into the ranks of the wildebeest and was fortunate that he needed to go with the flow in order to reach his son. The only thing on his mind right now, though, was saving Simba, his own life less of a priority than that of his child. Another blow like the one that had rocked the tree would surely splinter it, and if he could not make it in time, the cub was surely a goner.

Zazu started babbling to Scar about how awful of a situation this was, his mind racing a million miles a minute. He worried for his king and the boy he was charged to watch over, but he was also concerned for Viscus. The striped hyena still had not caught up with them, and the hornbill began to dread that perhaps he was unable to fight off the Heartless that had ambushed them earlier. In his tenure as majordomo, this was undoubtedly shaping up to be the worst day of his career, if not his life. Zazu could hear his mother in his head admonishing him for allowing things to get this bad, which only served to worsen his manic state. Luckily for him, he resolved that the only thing he could do now was go back and get more help. Even if Viscus could not aid them, there was no doubt in his mind that Sarabi would be just as willing to risk her life for her son's, not to mention her mate's. With that in mind, he began to attempt to calm himself and turn back the way they had come.

Scar had other plans, however, and backhanded the hornbill just before he could fly out of reach. The bird went careening into a rock wall and hit it with a resounding thud, falling to the ground completely out cold. The darker lion turned his attention back to his brother's movements, closely shadowing Mufasa as he made his way along the canyon's cliffs. He really did not like to get his claws dirty, as he was hoping that fate would take his side that day and let the wildebeest take care of disposing both of his relatives. If he really had to, though, he would wait until Mufasa would try to save himself after getting Simba to safety. It would be all too easy then to make it look like he was helping his brother, only to "lose his grip" and let the king fall to his death. As for his nephew, the boy would be so distraught at his father's passing that he would no doubt harbor guilt for it. Scar would take advantage of this and plant the idea in the boy's head that it was his own fault Mufasa died. Simba would run away in grief, and then the hyenas would swoop in and take care of the little whelp. He was so glad that those Heartless had shown up when they did, no doubt at Nuru's command. The striped hyena was likely out of his hair for good, and Scar was happy for that, since the rogue mammal was the only thing that could have brought down his plan at this point.

Mufasa continued to run towards the tree where Simba was, stopping briefly once he had gone a little way past it. He performed a quick 180 and began to charge against the flow of the herd, maneuvering his way between the nearly innumerable animals. One managed to ram into him, however, knocking him to the ground and causing him to grunt in pain. Only moments later, another of the horned mammals collided with the tree, making it break into pieces and throwing Simba into the air from the impact. Thankfully for the cub, his father brought himself back to his feet and made a daring jump towards his flying form, managing to catch him by the side with his mouth. Mufasa was given no time to react as he was hit once more, his grip on Simba loosened enough so that the boy tumbled to the ground several feet away. The cub frantically dodged out of the way of the wildebeest horde until his dad once more picked himself up and grabbed him by the nape, sprinting along as best he could with the herd.

Finding a small outcropping in the rocky walls of the gully, Mufasa rushed over and leapt up to the edge of it, placing his son down safely. Immediately afterwards, he was struck by yet another wildebeest and was carried into the turbulent mass as though he were being swept away by a living river. Simba's eyes darted back and forth as he searched for his father's form among the herd, a sense of dread growing inside him the longer he went without being able to spot him. Just before he gave up hope, though, he saw Mufasa jump out and dig his claws into the loose gravel slope nearby, the cub cheering for him. Believing his dad to be okay now, Simba turned around and started his own ascent up the gorge, hopping from edge to edge every so often. The king of the Pride Lands struggled to climb up the sheer face of the canyon, his claws slipping every so often and causing him to push his back legs to regain traction. But he reached a point where it was too steep to go any further on his own, and his hind paws could no longer offer him assistance here. When he spotted Scar on the ledge just above him, Mufasa felt a small shred of hope.

"_Scar_! Broth-" he pleaded desperately, losing his voice for a moment as his grip slipped, digging his claws into the stone as hard as he could, "Brother! Help me!"

The darker lion regarded him for a moment, a disdainful look on his face. He then suddenly lunged forward and sunk his claws into Mufasa's paws, causing the bigger feline to roar in pain. It was made all the more agonizing as it was by Scar's strength alone that he was not falling. When he looked up at his brother, he saw a devious and evil grin begin to form, and it was then that Mufasa had a flash of realization. His own face twisted into an expression of utter horror as he watched the other lion lean in closely, eyes narrowed.

"**Long live the king**," Scar whispered slowly to him, taking the time to stretch out each and every word with as much malice as he could muster, the irony of the statement not lost on his intended victim.

The usurper's true colors now revealed, he flung his paws out and removed his claws from his brother's feet, throwing Mufasa backwards into the air. Time slowed to a crawl for the king, the image of his sibling painfully retreating away from him, that haunting, viciously victorious look plastered on the traitor's face. The great leader of the savannah felt gravity start to tug his helpless form down towards the rampaging stampede below him, unable to do anything more than flail about. The finality of the situation came crashing down on him all at once, and with that, Mufasa let out a scream far louder than any he had produced before and would ever make again. It was so great that for everyone around, the king included, it almost completely drowned out the raucous noise of the mammals' running. The last thing he heard before he hit the ground was his son bursting out with a similarly voluminous yell.

At the top of one cliff, Simba had turned around just after reaching it, the sight of his dad tumbling into the gorge below being the first thing that met his eyes. His wail intertwined with Mufasa's, the cub in complete disbelief at what he was seeing. Though none could see him, Scar was beside himself with malevolent mirth at finally ridding himself of one of the obstacles in the way of him ascending the throne. Ever since his days as a cub, back when he was known by his true name of Taka, he had loathed being in his brother's shadow and he hated how their father had heaped praise upon his actions and gave little attention to those of his younger son. But now, all he needed to do was get rid of Simba, and then nothing would stand in his way of becoming the new king of the Pride Lands.

(**End Recommended Listening)**

On the opposite side of the canyon, higher than both of the lions, stood Viscus. He had arrived just in time to witness Mufasa's final moments, his jaw agape as he watched the lord of the land disappear into the stampede. Even if the king survived the fall, he would be in no position to pick himself up from being trampled. The hyena knew that Mufasa was as good as dead, and the fact that he had come too late to save him was difficult to swallow.

"No," he uttered quietly, his voice panged with guilt.

(**Recommended Listening: Mufasa's Theme [Sad Reprisal] - The Lion King)**

After several minutes, a deathly silence fell over the canyon. The stampede had ended, but the clouds of dust the wildebeest had kicked up obscured the bottom of the gully, prompting Viscus to move in closer. He saw the silhouette of Mufasa's body laid across the ground, and the shadow of a smaller figure attempting to nudge at it. The hyena bit his lower lip as he heard Simba's voice trying to reach his father, pushing at his head with both of his front paws. With every action that confirmed what the boy did not want to believe, though, the cub's tone become more frightened, forlorn, and full of grief. He ran a little bit away from Mufasa and called out for help, his cries echoing off the walls of the gorge. Viscus could not bring himself to answer, and he knew that nothing he could say would bring any comfort to Simba. So, with a heavy heart, the striped teen watched as the lion began to tear up and pushed himself up under his father's paw so that it appeared Mufasa was embracing him.

_Why?_ Viscus wondered to himself as the sight struck a chord within him. _If I had not allowed myself to be stopped, this could have been prevented. I should have just made that other lion move instead of listening to him! Simba...please don't blame yourself for what happened here._

As he watched from the cliff, the hyena saw the form of Scar pace up to the other two felines, a grim expression on his face. "Simba...what have you done?"

The teen had to do a double take at what he had heard. Surely, the boy's uncle was not accusing him of having been responsible for Mufasa's death. That would be the sort of cruel thing that would break the young lion if pushed. It was clear that Simba was also shocked at the seeming accusation, jumping back from his father's prone form, tears still streaming heavily down his face.

"There were wildebeest and he tried to save me," the cub tried to explain, his voice choked with sadness to the point that he was almost unintelligible, "It was an accident, and I...I didn't mean for it to happen."

Scar reached out with one paw to lay it on Simba's back, though he kept himself physically distant from the cub. "Of course, of _course_ you didn't," the darker feline said to him, pulling the boy closer so that Simba's face rested against his other foreleg, "No one ever _means_ for things of this nature to happen. But, the king _is_ dead. And if it weren't for _you_, he'd still be _alive_. Oh! What will your _mother_ think?"

Viscus saw Simba's expression change from melancholy to despair. Scar's words had crushed him and made him believe his guilt to be real. It was bad enough, in the cub's mind, that he had watched his father fall to his death. But now, to learn that he was at fault for it happening all because he had triggered the stampede, it was just too much. Simba no longer knew what he could do and asked his uncle for advice. Scar replied by telling him to run away and never come back to the Pride Lands, and that was all the boy needed and could stand to hear. The cub fled down the length of the gorge as fast as he could, his watering eyes leaving tiny damp spots on the soil as he ran off.

The striped hyena that had been watching the whole exchange felt his own guilt for not arriving in time give way to festering anger. He was appalled at Scar's callousness, unable to believe that the lion would blame his own nephew for his brother's death. And the way he had spoken to Simba had sounded so deliberate and cold, as though he had been practicing for that very moment. But it was not until he spotted three familiar figures behind Scar that Viscus knew his suspicions about the guy were not just him attempting to vilify the lion. Shenzi, Banzai and Ed had made themselves plainly known, though all three of them were unusually quiet and stood their ground near Mufasa's corpse, seeming to wait for some sort of opportunity.

(**End Recommended Listening)**

"Kill him," Scar commanded them, not a single drop of emotion in his voice.

The spotted trio let out a chorus of hunting cries and dashed off after their quarry, the impressive speed of their kind allowing them to rapidly sprint across the gorge's floor. At the rate they were going, they would soon overtake their prey. Viscus felt his anger melt away into fear and concern for Simba, but at the same time, it was hard for him to ignore the newfound hatred he had gained for Scar. For now, though, the retribution he would visit on the treasonous feline would have to wait. He could still at least partially avert the other mysterious lion's plot by making sure that Mufasa's son survived this ordeal.

The striped hyena imbued his feet with increased speed and enchanted them so that he would be able to run along the sheer cliff faces without needing to worry about falling, just as he had the night before. If he had looked back the moment he took off, he would have seen Scar's face twist into something resembling an incalculable level of frustration and disbelief. Viscus kept his eye on Simba, noticing that the hyenas chasing him were starting to rapidly gain on him, no doubt in part due to the fact they were adults running down a child. A narrow opening allowed the cub to slip away from the jaws of one of them, the trio having to follow in single file in order to get through, while the rogue above them leapt over the clifftops and landed on the ridge of the canyon's surrounding flatlands. No longer having to sprint at an angle, Viscus redoubled his efforts and was soon past the boy, stopping when he came to another drop. Looking below, there was a massive briar patch that would turn anyone that fell into it into a living pincushion, but it appeared there were some gaps that would allow a small animal, roughly Simba's size no less, safe passage through the thorns.

The lion cub, however, only saw a cliff at the end of his path and was unaware of what lay in store for him beyond the edge. So, it was only natural for him to come skidding to a halt before he could get a good look at what was ahead. Simba was filled with grief at his father's passing, but also terror at being trapped between what he perceived to be a deadly drop and a group of predators that were keen on not only killing him, but no doubt also vengeance for the humiliation they suffered during their last meeting. When he turned around, he saw his pursuers start to close in, a grin on each of their faces as they slowed their approach. The leader, Shenzi, if he recalled her name correctly, had a murderous look in her eyes. She was the one he had scratched across the face with his claws to save Nala, and no doubt she wanted to have at him before the other two. Gradually, the lion cub backed away from them, but came to a stop as he felt one of his hind paws almost slip over the edge of the cliff behind him. Her partners were blocking the only exit from the area, and dread settled into Simba at the realization that there was nowhere to run or hide.

Shenzi kept a body length's distance from the boy in the event that he tried to break away so that she would be able to lunge upon him no matter what angle he tried. "Looks like Mufasa isn't here to save your hide _this_ time," she snarled, her amused expression having faded into one of deadly and furious seriousness, "and there's nowhere to go. But since I'm in** such** a generous mood, I'll give you two choices, brat. One, you try and get past me, and end up having me and my boys tear you to pieces. Or two, you hurl yourself off that cliff and die like your dad. But hey, you never know, you could survive the fall."

"Yeah, but then we'd have to go after you and kill you anyway!" Banzai exclaimed from his position, showing a bit of distaste at the idea, "Lion pancake doesn't sound too good, though, but tenderized meat _is _easier to get down. What do you think, Ed?"

Ed responded to the question by giving a sinister and cold, dark laugh, very much unlike the dimwitted giggles he was known for letting out. Simba knew that as eager as they were about killing him, they were taking time to toy with him. Inwardly, he was disgusted at the sick game they were playing by giving him the illusion that he had a chance. On the surface, he could show nothing other than dismay. The boy wanted to keep up a strong appearance, but his body betrayed him, and the tears flowed once more as he bemoaned his fate. His dad could not help him now, and the striped hyena that had saved him before was nowhere to be seen. Simba laid down on the ground and covered his eyes with his front paws, sniffling weakly. The hyena in front of him snorted in contempt, unamused that her prey was giving up so easily. Nonetheless, Shenzi flashed her teeth and crouched down onto her haunches, readying herself to jump upon him and deliver the tremendously strong and fatal bite her species was known for.

Simba heard her paws slide against the dusty ground for a moment before all was quiet, bracing himself for the inevitable, life-ending crunch. He was shocked to hear a masculine yell come out of nowhere and prompt a grunt from Shenzi, followed by the sound of a body hitting the dirt. He lowered his paws and opened his eyes, and what he saw brought him hope, even if just the tiniest sliver. Viscus had appeared and tackled the spotted hyena to the ground, but he did not sit still for very long. He rushed over and took up Simba by the nape of his neck and dropped him just over the edge of the cliff, letting the cub see that the fall was not very far at all. He tumbled down the slope and rolled into an opening in the briars, soon after regaining his footing and doing his best to weave between the thorny branches to avoid getting cut up. If he managed to get out of here alive and meet up with Viscus again, he would be sure to thank him for saving him all these times.

Shenzi brought herself up from the impact, a death glare framed in her narrowed eyes directed at the interloper that had thwarted her kill. "You again!?‽That Nuru guy told us you wouldn't make it!"

"It's over, the three of you failed," Viscus said in a rather calm tone, meeting the female's gaze with his own firm stare, "You had a chance to finish the job before I got here, but you took your sweet time in further crushing Simba's spirit. So typical of villains, really."

The spotted hyena growled lowly and let her fangs, dripping with saliva brought on by both hunger and anger, become more visible, her two clan mates slowly striding up beside her. "I've only seen you twice, but I'm already tired of you getting in the way. You think you can take all three of us, kid?"

"If I could defeat several times as many creatures, who were no doubt more dangerous than the average hyena, what makes you think you all will be any trouble?" the striped teen shot back, "And my name is Viscus, not 'kid'! I'll whip you three up right quick and then go after Scar...and I'll make him _pay_ for everything that's happened here!"

"Do not be so hasty, boy. You act as if this will be a cakewalk."

Nuru had shown up in front of the passage that Banzai and Ed had been previously guarding, a knowing grin on his face. But rather than say anything more, the monochrome lion bent his head low and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth and began to make a light heaving motion in his chest, Viscus wondering just what he was playing at. Suddenly, black smoke flowed out of the feline's muzzle like a deathly ooze, a sickly sound coming from his throat. The wisps licked at his heels before creeping towards the spotted trio between him and the striped boy. Viscus backed away from the billowing fog while the others tilted their heads curiously, though they were not given long to contemplate what it was before it washed over them. As the hyenas were enveloped, a change came over their forms, though it was subtler than the teen had expected.

Their eyes had gone from yellow with black pupils to just being a solid shade of the former hue, and their forms had bulked up very little, only enough to make them look healthy rather than starved. It continued with their coats, which become darker overall, an ebony aura accentuating the deeper colors and making them seem all the more menacing. Their teeth elongated by miniscule amounts, and the edges of those fangs had sharpened. Aside from their increased bulk, their size had grown by a couple of inches, making them notably bigger than before. What disturbed viscus most of all, though, was that he could still sense the malicious intent from them. Nuru had not transformed them into Heartless, but they were clearly infused with darkness, and such a change no doubt brought out their inner feelings.

"Whoa!" Banzai exclaimed, slamming a paw down and cracking the earth under its force, smirking at this newfound might, "Man, I ain't never felt this strong before! Yo, Shenzi, let's take care of Mr. Stripy Buzzkill here and go after that runt!"

The alpha female looked towards Viscus with a grin that made him rather uncomfortable. "Yeah, let's do that, boys. But you know what else? Forget Scar and his deal to bring us in for helping him out with his little family feud. With this kind of power, _we_ could rule the Pride Lands without him, and no stupid lion or estranged cousin is gonna get in our way!"

"Enjoy," Nuru remarked with a chuckle before making himself scare, bounding back the way he came and soon out of sight of the others.

(**Recommended Listening: The Encounter - Kingdom Hearts HD 2.5 ReMIX**)

Viscus had to jump out of the way of an oncoming charge from Shenzi, though this left him open to a tackle from Banzai, who barreled into him and pushed him back closer to the edge of the cliff that he had dropped Simba over. Grunting from the rather rough impact, the striped hyena dug his claws into the earth and waited for their next move. Ed was up, cackling as he closed in for a bite at Viscus, but the teen's position allowed him to duck out of the way and seize the crazy spotted predator by the scruff. He whirled around and threw him back the way he came, the larger hyena tumbling a short distance before hopping back to his feet and growling angrily. Viscus responded in kind by blasting him with a fireball, making Ed yelp and run around as he tried to put out the flame that had sprouted on the tip of his tail. The other two were humored for a moment, but they had the momentary advantage as Banzai mimicked the stripe's previous action, spewing a dark sphere of flame from his maw. The teen leapt at the last second so that the orb would not track him, breaking into a run at his foes while charging himself with lightning.

Passing the two spotted hyenas resulted in them receiving a quick jolt, causing them both to be stunned momentarily. Ed had managed to douse his tail's fire and whipped himself up into a rapidly spinning blur of claws and fangs. Viscus tried to lunge at him, but the momentum the spotted hyena had built up threw him backwards, leaving him with ugly scratch lines across his collarbone. The unintelligible male muttered a bit as he settled from his cyclone-like attack, his eyes seeming to focus intensely on Viscus. A bolt of electricity manifested seemingly from nowhere and scorched the striped youth's backside, causing him to cry out in both surprise and pain. He had not counted on them suddenly being able to manipulate the elements as he could. Shenzi grinned in delight at the boy's reaction, letting out a deep snarl before pursing her lips to form an O-shape. A block of hoarfrost was propelled from her muzzle and struck the distracted Viscus right in the face, making his head rear back uncomfortably from the blow. His forehead throbbed with a dull pain, the same sort one would feel after falling on an icy patch, and he was more than certain he felt the trickle of blood run down the bridge of his muzzle.

The three hyenas that he had taken so lightly before were not messing around. True, they were mostly just experimenting with their newfound abilities, but it was clear that whatever corruption Nuru had instilled in them had granted some knowledge of how to properly use them. The striped hyena dodge to the side and backed away towards the high walls of the gorge as he tried to gain more room, wondering how such an increase was even possible. Viscus, however, was not given too much more time to ponder on this as all three of his opponents lined up and unleashed each of their respective elements into a breath. The energies twisted and crackled ominously before spiraling into a single dark beam of violet flame, black frost, and azure lightning. The striped hyena hurled himself to the side and watched with wide eyes as it struck one of the cliffs he had been near. A thunderous boom echoed throughout the canyon as a sizeable section of the rock face was reduced to rubble, the formerly narrow passage having been expanded considerably by the blast of their combined attack.

"Ahaha!" Shenzi hollered ecstatically, feeling a rush of excitement from the display of power they had unleashed, "You see that, stripe!? You're no match for us now! After we wipe the floor with you, we'll go after that bratty half-pint, and once _he's_ out of the way, Scar and the rest of the snobby cats are next!"

Viscus grit his teeth in disgust and rushed them, but just before he was upon them, he jumped high into the air. Pointing himself down with his forepaws in front, he slammed into the earth and caused a large fissure to snake along the edge of the cliff the hyenas were on. The rock gave way and fell down onto the slope, his foes swiftly removing themselves before it could crash and tumble, the loose stone bulldozing through the briars. Viscus had been counting on that, though, for it made them split up in order to keep from tripping each other up. He went for Banzai first, colliding with the hyena the moment he landed and sent him careening down the incline. The hapless hyena laughed in the way his kind did when startled, falling head over heel as he fell, his face twisting into fear as he saw the brambles below. His paws scratched at the rock as he tried to regain his balance, desperately wanting to avoid a prickly fate, but it was for naught and his muzzle turned up in pain as his hindquarters came into contact with the thorns. The result was both instant and hilarious, even for the striped hyena admittedly, as he came flying out of the patch and screamed indignantly, sending his two clan mates into fits of amused laughter. Apparently, they were still susceptible to anything they found humorous, even with their inner darkness brought to light.

This was just the sort of distraction the teen needed. He added further injury to the insulting wound Banzai had gained by propelling himself into the hyena's rear as he wrapped himself in fire, both burning away the spikes and searing into the marks they had left. The spotted male snarled in rage and attempted to do the same, but Viscus was more than ready for that, countering him with an icy breath and dispelling those flames. Confused at how he had been put out, Banzai was ill-prepared for the imminent thrashing, his head being knocked this way and that as the striped boy rushed him again and again, delivering brutal head-butts and bites along with the occasional tackle. Shenzi and Ed stopped laughing as they realized what was going on, but by the time they had collected themselves, it was too late to stop Viscus. Banzai fell to the ground after one last two-pawed strike to the face from his foe, bruised and sore, though nowhere near grievously wounded. It seemed that the stripe had spared him, if only to further his humiliation.

"Ow," he moaned out painfully, the darkness surrounding his form starting to slip away and making his body shrink down to its original size, "that hurt worse than Mufasa. Man, getting beaten by some kid...this sucks..."

With that last comment, he lost consciousness, his head hitting the earth with a soft thud and the last bit of umbral taint leaving him, the hyena once more his old self. Now Shenzi and Ed remained, and both of them looked understandably upset. As much as Banzai was often the butt of their jokes, he was still their pal, and nobody but them was allowed to give him grief. Ed lunged at Viscus with all the ferocity he could muster, but his anger-addled mind was little match for the calm and practiced movements of the striped hyena, who dodged out of the way of every bite and charge the spotted one attempted to land. Shenzi fired off another ball of ice towards her foe, though unexpectedly for her, he flipped back and let it keep going, the projectile striking her friend in the same place that it had earlier to Viscus. Ed glared at her, but his expression melted away when she returned the look, reminding him who the alpha was here and that he should watch where he was going.

Once more, the chaos allowed Viscus to deliver a more decisive blow, his forehead slamming into Ed's as he built up speed. Staggering back, the dimwitted male shook his head to stave off the daze, yet not quickly enough for him to prepare for another strike to his side, sending him tumbling down to the ground. Viscus reached down and grabbed him by the scruff with his jaws, the larger hyena woofing in surprise as he was lifted up above the smaller one's head. With a muffled yell, the teen hurled himself backwards and slammed Ed into the ground with a ferocious pile driver, the dried soil under them deeply dented from the impact. The dark hyena let out a pained grunt from deep in his throat, his body kept upright thanks to the balance of Viscus' front paws. Once the boy let go, Ed keeled over and thumped onto the ground, letting out a pained whimper and giggling weakly before slumping into an unconscious state. Like Banzai before him, he was still breathing, but the darkness had now taken leave of his form, returning him to his original state.

Viscus had not noticed that the same energy that had been flowing out of the hyenas was gathering into the remaining one. When he turned around to face down his last opponent, she had grown further still, though not by nearly as much as the initial infusion had prompted. Shenzi tilted her head down and released an icy wind from deep within her chest, which formed into a chilly fog as it blanketed the area. The ground dampened from the moisture seeping into it, causing the footing to become a bit more difficult to deal with. As his vision slowly became obscured, Viscus swiveled his ears around to try and catch the faintest noise. Fortunately, he did not have to try very hard, as it seemed the spotted female was content to address him.

"Momma always said not to let potential food go to waste," she growled contemptuously, the padding of her paws against the wet dirt faintly reaching the striped male's ears, "but you've been such a pain that I don't really care anymore."

The teen ducked low under a snapping of Shenzi's jaws as she suddenly appeared to one side, her muzzle having come so close that he almost felt the teeth near his face. She immediately followed this up with a pounce, her larger paws digging into his shoulders and pushing him into the ground. He swerved his upper body as best he could every time she tried to seize his neck, a few times narrowly avoiding those canines as they brushed against his fur. Viscus called on his arcane reserves to sheath his form in a cutting wind, which prompted his attacker to remove herself from him after a few lashes from the air currents. She would not be deterred long, however, as Viscus' protection dissipated soon after, and she resumed her plan of attack.

Unlike before, Shenzi threw some elemental strikes into the mix, firing off a few spears of ice when keeping her distance and lunging with frost-imbued fangs while up close. The striped boy was both impressed and intimidated by her relentless assault, even more so when she displayed the fire and lightning that her two companions had been in possession of earlier. An electrical arc streamed in a chaotic pattern before striking at his feet, throwing up dust that further obscured his vision and left him open to another tackle. Somehow, she had figured out how to mimic the move he had used against Banzai, for her form was wreathed in dark flames when the impact came, and it burned no less furiously when he was sent tumbling head over heel. Being hit by his own attack was a humbling and painful experience for Viscus, but he was given little time to appreciate it before he was forced to dodge once more out of the way of a lunging bite.

If there was a time to call on his trump card, then now was it. While still unsure of how he could use it in this form, Viscus summoned his Keyblade into his jaw and gripped the handle tightly, the gavel-shaped tip pointed out to the side. The striped male swung himself about in a circle, instantly dissipating the fog that was immediately surrounding him and revealing the spotted female's whereabouts. Using the momentum he had built up from the spin, he threw his weapon like a boomerang towards her, though just before he landed the hit, the shaft of the blade burned with white fire, causing Shenzi to reel back from the blow and paw at her face. Catching it and going with the motions, Viscus flung it so that the Keyblade would rotate vertically, slashing his foe across the neck and making her cough as a line of frost was left where it had struck. With a leap, Viscus caught it in his teeth once again and whipped himself into a blurring, flipping dervish of hyena and steel. He flung his weapon down with a powerful flick of his upper half, the hammer-like Keyblade's tip slamming right onto Shenzi's head and unleashing a bolt of lightning that streaked over her body, but still she was not down for the count.

Impressed, Viscus followed this up with another bound, but this time kept the magical key close to him. Dazed, Shenzi was unable to react in time before the striped teen sheathed himself in scintillating light and bore down on her, using his full weight to slam the tip home into her side. In that instant, all of the brilliance he had built up shot through the alpha, causing her to cry out and writhe before slowly slumping down onto her haunches. The darkness that had so nearly consumed Shenzi leaked away like heated molasses, dripping down thickly onto the ground and starting to grow lighter as the bright energy Viscus had infused his weapon with mingled into its substance. In short order, it dissipated into nothing, and the remnants of the supernatural fog that the hyena had created vanished along with it. Groaning from soreness, the clan leader turned her eyes up at the one that had bested her, a grudging look in them as she returned to normal. Viscus took pity on his beaten foes and cast the same healing magic over them as he had yesterday on Zazu.

(**End Recommended Listening**)

"Ugh, what happened?" Shenzi said, slowly rising to her feet and confused at how she was able to move so well after the thrashing she took.

The teen let out a puff of air from his nose, his brow creased in an irritated expression. "You lost, despite your best efforts and the great power Nuru gave to you. Let my name burn into your minds as the one who defeated you for the rest of your days."

"Aw, we're weak again!" Banzai groaned in disappointment, having just regained consciousness only a few moments ago, "Now we can't go through with our plan, Shenzi!"

The female flashed him an angry scowl. "You think I don't know that? We gotta go back to kissing Scar's butt just to get food, but maybe it won't be so bad with him as king, assuming that this guy here doesn't get to him first."

"So...should we still go after the cub?" Her companion asked unsurely.

Shenzi snorted and shook her head. "Forget it, he'll probably die out there anyway. There's no food and water around for miles out in the wastes." She turned to the striped hyena that had beaten them and gave a disconcerting smirk. "You can go after him if you want, but I doubt it'll make any sort of difference. We can't stop you anyway, you're scary strong." The trio shared a laugh and began to make their way back to the opening in the gorge, with the alpha following closely behind her two subordinates.

"By the way," she remarked, turning back one last time, "if you weren't so dead set on saving the boy, and if you wanted to get rid of those lazy lions, we might have followed you. Imagine it: 'King Viscus', the first true alpha male of our clan, and the first stripe to ever lead the spots. It'd have been hilarious, but pretty nice too, because no one would've messed with us. Haha, what could've been, right?"

Once more, she and her friends cackled wildly before scampering away and leaving Viscus to his own devices. As much contempt as he held for them, he was at least satisfied that they knew when to call it quits. The striped hyena wanted so badly to follow them and get rid of Scar, but it would be for naught if he let Simba die. Swallowing his desire to mete out well-deserved justice, Viscus turned back towards the former cliff, now a steep slope that led straight into the bramble patch. He spat forth a small ball of fire and watched with a primal allure as the briars went up in flame. It took hours for the whole stretch to be reduced to ash, and by the time that was done, it was close to dusk. The hyena began to walk forward towards the cinders, using some of the last bit of energy he could muster for the time being and cloaking himself in the same windy armor he had used against Shenzi. It protected him from the heat of the dying embers and blew them away at the same time, the teen watching as they scattered into the air and were barely visible in the day's fading light.

With a final push to squeeze out just a little more arcane power, he formed a large solid cube of ice inside of his muzzle and began to suckle slowly on it. He would need it for the great search that laid ahead of him.

-**No Worries? There's Plenty to Dread**-

All of the previous day and night Simba had spent running from the Pride Lands, a flood of emotions coursing through his veins. Just before morning had come, he had passed out from exhaustion and lay sprawled out on his side upon the dry and cracked earth of the wasteland beyond his home, one of his paws covering his face. A flock of vultures that had been searching desperately for a meal were elated to find him, believing the cub to have just recently expired. Carrion was always good, but the fresher it was, the better, so they believed. A great many of them landed near the boy's body, a few of them experimentally picking at him and hesitating when they saw the faintest traces of breath. Oh well, they thought, he was as good as dead anyway, so it would be better to put the lion out of his misery.

Before they could get the chance to do so, however, they heard a duo of yells come at them from one direction. A few of the vultures were sent flying, while the rest panicked at the sight of a warthog being ridden upon by a meerkat plowing into their flock members, the large birds scattering into the air to avoid being bowled over as well. The ones that had been injured hopped away for a few moments before following their fellows, leaving the pair that had chased them away to laugh jovially. To them, it may as well have been a game, since they chuckled to one another how the buzzards seemed to get caught up in it every time they came across a group.

Their good mood was spoiled, however, when the warthog spotted the unconscious Simba and turned to address his friend concernedly. "Uh-oh. Hey, Timon, you better come look. I think it's still alive."

"Yeewgh!" the meerkat replied uneasily, walking over to the prone form of the cub and trying to lift the paw that was hiding his face, "All righty, what have we got here?"

His initial effort was not enough to move the limb, so he had to push himself underneath the pads of it and use his whole upper body to try and lift it. This earned Timon a much more successful result, managing to lift the paw above his head. But the moment he saw Simba's face, the small suricate wished he had not even bothered. He was seized by the fear that all prey experienced upon seeing a much larger and more formidable predator species and immediately dropped the boy's paw.

"Jeez, it's a lion!" He cried out, running back to the warthog and clambering up his back, tugging urgently at his ears, "Run, Pumbaa, move it!"

The wild pig, however, was not nearly as intimidated by the sight, in part because he himself was larger than Simba. "Hey, Timon, it's just a _little_ lion. Look at him. He's so cute and all alone. Can we keep him?"

"Pumbaa, are you nuts!?" the smaller male exclaimed incredulously, yelling right into the warthog's ear, "We're talking about a _lion_. Lions _eat_ guys like us! And he's only gonna get _bigger_!"

Pumbaa bent down to try and look at Simba from his pal's point of view. "Maybe he'll be on our side if we take care of him?"

"Hah! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! Why-" Timon began to say, though he stopped himself from his next thought, "Wait, I've got it! What if he's on our side? You know, having a lion around might not be such a bad idea."

After another small exchange with his somewhat simple friend, the meerkat began to remark that it was getting real hot outside. Pumbaa scooped up the young lion in his tusks and started to slowly carry him off the way that Timon was directing him. At the same time, Viscus had just arrived nearby and was only just beginning to sweep his head around to look when he spotted the trio, little bigger than small dots in his field of vision. Since he had rested before setting out in the hot sun, he conjured up another slab of ice and slowly drew in the cool water from it as he followed. Thankfully, he did not have to travel for very long or far before he saw where it was the group was heading. A small oasis with some sparse vegetation and a pool of water about half the size of the hole he had stayed in during his visit to the Pride Lands came into view. All at once, the striped hyena felt the fatigue melt away and he made a dash towards the site, thankful that there was relief in this harsh desert.

He stopped at a football field's length away, though, when he saw what lay beyond. A massive jungle, lusciously green and sporting a few small peaks that had a waterfall tumbling over each of them was what awaited him if he went further still. He bit down into the ice cube and winced as the chilly fragments sent tingles through his teeth, a broad smile on his face upon realizing that it was indeed real and not a mirage like he had suspected. Maybe here, he thought, there would be a teleportation circle similar to the one he saw in the savannah. Viscus figured it was not unreasonable to assume so, but then, Julius had only told him that one circle existed in every world, and had not specified whether there was more than one or not. He would have to take a look after meeting back up with Simba and making sure the cub was okay.

As the hyena approached, he saw that the meerkat was splashing water onto Simba's face in an attempt to wake him. A few motions were all that was needed for the cub to stir, groaning and blinking his eyes open. Confused as he was about how he had ended up here, the lion did not show it, a melancholic expression seemingly permanently affixed to his face. Viscus frowned at that and began to move in closer still, surprised that they had not yet noticed him right out in the open just walking on up.

"You okay, kid?" Timon asked Simba lowly.

The young boy shrugged and spoke dully in response. "I guess so."

"You nearly _died_," Pumbaa said worriedly, his sympathy for the cub having only increased after hearing that depressed tone.

The suricate stood up and puffed out his chest. "I saved you."

"Timon," the warthog said in a low tone, warning his friend that he was getting a bit of a swelled head as usual and taking too much credit.

Realizing this, Timon rubbed the back of his neck and coughed. "Well, Pumbaa helped..."

"_Simba!_"

All three of them turned their heads towards the source of the new voice and each reacted to the predatory animal accordingly. Timon let a terrified yell as he spotted the striped hyena padding up towards them, taking shelter behind one of the few palm trees in the oasis. Pumbaa backed away slowly as he muttered in fright and made for the same cover as his friend, though his rotund figure would hardly allow him the same sort of protection as the meerkat. Simba did not move, but instead felt his eyes open up more at the unexpected visitor. His muzzle remained stolid and down, though he was unaware, minutely happy to see a more familiar face and taking one step forward.

"Viscus?" He asked hesitantly, the hyena nodding in the affirmative, making the corners of the boy's face turn up to a more neutral expression. "You came all the way out here for me?"

The teen dipped his head once again, moving no further, lest he scare off the pair that had helped to save Simba's life. "Yes, I did. Those other hyenas put up a tough fight, but I managed to send them running after a good struggle. I thought I would lose you out here, but imagine my surprise when I saw that you were saved after all. You have no idea how relieved I am."

"Wait, wait, hold up!" Timon barked, coming back out into the open and trudging up to Simba's side, looking suspiciously at Viscus, "You _know_ this guy? Kid, I don't mean to sound rude, but are you _sure_ we can trust him?"

Simba almost looked indignant at the accusation, but withheld his sharp tongue because he understood why the meerkat would be afraid. "Yeah. He's helped save my life more than once, so we can trust him. Viscus, this is Timon and Pumbaa. Can you promise not to try and eat them, since they helped me out?"

"Yes, of course, I give you my word that no harm will come to them by my fangs and claws," the hyena swore, lifting one of his front paws as best he could to show he genuinely meant it. "Those who help my friends are my allies, after all."

The two aforementioned guys visibly relaxed at this, though Timon remained a little bit skeptical while Pumbaa had cheerfully accepted the vow. Viscus supposed that was realistic enough, since all that mattered at the moment was putting the young prince at ease and helping him to recover from his trauma. But that would prove to be a difficult task, considering the harsh words from Scar and the hyenas that Simba had heard. It was not like it could happen overnight either, and Viscus was well aware of how the grieving process affected someone. Still, the striped teen felt he had to try, for he believed it was better than letting things continue the way they had been.

The hyena made it known to them that he wished to speak with Simba alone, and after some reluctance from the cub's recent saviors, they let him go. The two walked out towards the edge of the jungle where they could at least have some shade from the unrelenting sun, stopping once they were among the lively green foliage. Viscus felt himself hesitate, because he had originally come to this world to try and give help where it was needed. There was little more he could do, he figured, and even if he did go back to confront Scar, who would the pride be more likely to believe? Him, a stranger they had only met a couple days ago, or the new king, who had undoubtedly been among their numbers for years? The only way that venture could succeed would be if he could convince Simba to come back, as unlikely as that was now. If the boy truly did not wish to return, then he would not force him.

And then there was Nuru, who had disappeared to parts unknown just before the striped hyena had battled his spotted foes. For all he knew, the mysterious lion had left the world and moved on to another while Viscus had been kept busy. No Heartless had shown up since his disappearance, and nothing felt out of the ordinary now. The sensation of being watched that had plagued Viscus ever since he had arrived in the Pride Lands had vanished as of last night, which led him to assume that it had been Nuru who had been keeping an eye on him. Maybe the lion's work here was done and observing Viscus was no longer needed, or the hyena had somehow managed to elude him after all this time. Either way, the teen felt like he had to move on after this, though he did not enjoy the possibility of having to walk all the way back to the watering hole in the savannah if he could not locate a teleportation circle here.

"Simba," he began lowly, in case the others had decided to follow and eavesdrop on them, "is there anything I can do to convince you to go back? If you say no, I won't push the issue, but I think you should seriously consider it before answering."

It was clear, though, from the cub's expression that he had made up his mind long before Viscus had even thought of posing the question to him. "I can't go back, Viscus," Simba replied in a defeated tone, hanging his head, "It hurts too much."

"I see," the hyena said with a soft sigh, "I understand what it means to lose a loved one all too well. It makes us wonder endlessly about how things could have been different or think about how we could have stopped it from happening. Everyone comes to experience grief in their own way, Simba, and dealing with it is never easy. I hate to say it, but the pain will never go away, though it will lessen over time and become more manageable."

Simba looked up to the other male with a sad curiosity. "Then, what should I do?"

"It's not my place to say," Viscus answered, moving one digit forward to press at the boy's chest, "but I believe that you should keep on living. If it is here that you choose to dwell from now on, then I think you will do just fine in that regard. As for me, I must leave for other lands, just as I was planning to do when I first came to your home."

"You can't stay?"

"I would if there were not so many others that needed help in fighting the Heartless, those creatures you saw before. But I will never forget you, Simba, and I hold out hope that we will meet again someday, even if I am old, decrepit and beyond my capacity as a warrior by then. Will you give me one last little smile before I leave?"

The cub nodded and did as he was asked, which prompted the hyena to mirror his expression. "I hope I see you again, too. Goodbye, Viscus."

"Goodbye, Simba," the teen said with a light crack in his voice, moving one forepaw to tussle the young lion's head fur.

Pulling himself away before he could let his emotions come out, the hyena ran back towards the oasis and bowled past Timon and Pumbaa, who looked at each other before watching him. Simba called them away and they followed, starting to explain to him their way of life called "Hakunah Matata" or something. He turned back one final time to look at Viscus, watching the hyena dive into the shallow pool. After a few moments, his eyes went wide as a pillar of white light erupted from the water, with a silvery orb traveling up around the outer edges of it before blasting off into the mid-day sky. Little did the young prince know that it would not be the last time he would meet a person from beyond the stars.

-**Checking In**-

Nuru had watched the ceremony that Scar had held from afar, and had inwardly applauding the lion's splendid acting as far as feigning loss for his brother and nephew. The shock of the rest of the pride as the hyenas marched onto the Pride Lands in a new age of "equality" had made it all the more fun. But beyond that, he had other things to do. With one claw, he had reached for the device in his ear and made the call to the same man that he had talked to during the previous couple of nights.

"Talk to me," the voice from the other end had stated in a business-like manner.

"My friend has just left this world," the monochrome feline had replied, "As for my designs, they did not come out exactly as expected, but the results work well enough for my purposes. Have you heard from any of the others?"

The voice he was communicating with had almost seemed to be smirking, if his words were any indication. "Everything seems to be in order, if they're to be believed. You're the first one done, believe it or not."

"Flattering, but do remember what I told you about the Keyblade," Nuru had warned it, "Nothing you build can render such a weapon useless. Resistant to it, perhaps, but certainly not impervious. I'm not worried about you, however, I'm just giving a friendly reminder. After all, you're a smart man, so I'm sure you can outmaneuver this intrusive factor."

He had disconnected the line and grinned at his fortune. He had long since found the door to the heart of the Pride Lands, but there was no need to hurry. The lion had known that his Heartless would have to grow in number again after the thrashing Viscus gave them, and that would not be difficult. With a deep-throated growl, he had called upon an obsidian portal and licked his lips in anticipation as the energy billowed out and back in on itself as though it had awaited his passage. Without another noise, he had stepped through and the doorway sealed shut behind him, having left no trace that it had been there in the first place.

/\

\/

**Post-Story Notes**: Well, this one took a bit more time, and I felt like I had to wrap it up with a little more exposition. The last little scene felt odd to write, as it was in the past compared to what was going on between Viscus and Simba, but hopefully it tied in well enough. The Pride Lands is over and done with, but Verité has yet to settle things in New York. Join our other co-protagonist again in Chapter 3B as new revelations come to light, both in the world of Gargoyles and in the overarching story of Cosmic Fracture. A lot of liberties were taken with the original source, but I felt it was necessary in order to move the plot in the direction I wanted it, so I hope you can forgive the changes.


	7. 3B: Head Towards Tomorrow

**Chapter 3, Side B: Head Towards Tomorrow**

It was the point of the day in which the sun had nearly dipped completely below the horizon when Verité finally began to stir from his exhaustive sleep. The young man stretched his arms and legs out as far as he could, and yawned so greatly that a lion would be jealous. Thanks to the low position of the sun in the sky, he did not need to shield his eyes as they fluttered open. He did, however, rub over them with one hand to clear out all the accumulated particles, reaching behind his back with the other to bring Elisa's jacket onto his lap. Once the sleep was sufficiently wiped away, he removed its traces from his hand and went to folding up the coat. He looked around as he briefly made work of the clothing, watching how the sun's rays cast a golden gleam over most of the city and the sky was lit up as though it was a dying fire. The clouds had darkened against the colors, looking like vast stretches and blotches of dark paint on a vibrant background. Verité was rather captivated by the sight, especially since he had not known it could be found out in the big city.

"It's quite something, isn't It?" Elisa said, her voice not too far away.

She was on the other side of the petrified form of Goliath, her upper body held up straight by her having leaned forward and rested her arms across her raised knees. The detective had a gentle smile on her face, making it clear she could see the teen's awed expression. Verité turned away a little bit, scratching one finger against his cheek as he lightly flushed from embarrassment. Elisa gave her own little laugh at that and went back to gazing up at the sky. He thought about how, during one of their breaks between the attempted mugging and their eventful stroll in the park, she had expressed that she loved New York. Despite the shady dealings that went on behind the scenes and under the cover of night, there was something about the liveliness, the sights and the action that she appreciated. It did not seem odd to Verité when he could see one of the things she was talking about right before his eyes. It was definitely a place that his parents and the other survivors of Voluntas would be able to settle down in.

The young man sat up straighter at those thoughts. His parents were no doubt worried about him, since he had never returned to them last night and had been absent all day. Verité did not want to imagine the things his mother would say once he came back, especially given the damage his clothes had suffered during battle. He had wanted to get together with them today as well, but considering the circumstances, he would just have to wait until he was able to determine if Goliath would be okay. After that, he would head back to the shelter and apologize to his folks and the others for worrying them. As for the rest of the evening, there were no doubt other things that he would have to consider, both in the present and moving forward.

A short while passed before the sky finally began to grow dark, the last vestiges of sunlight disappearing at the same time a solitary crack appeared over Goliath. It rapidly fragmented into several more, the chinks in the stone growing larger and louder with every second until almost the entire body of the gargoyle was covered in them. The sound of stone shattering into hundreds of fragments echoed through the air as Goliath flung his arms outward, his wings fully extended to help fling off the bits and pieces still attached. The towering gargoyle let out a refreshed groan and stretched his arms and legs as much as they would allow, working out each and every kink he felt from stiffness, feeling and hearing his joints making popping sounds. And though he was just waking up, Goliath was given little time to fully ease into the new night due to the pair of faces on either side of him.

"Goliath, are you okay?" Elisa asked him.

He gave her an affirmative nod. "Of course. I apologize for not telling you before, but my kind undergoes a stone sleep during the day which rejuvenates us by the next evening."

"So that's what you meant," Verité mused as stood by the detective's side, "Your story from before makes a lot more sense if that was the reason you were unable to return to the castle in time to save most of your friends. Well, now we know that guarding your frozen self really was worthwhile."

Goliath turned to the young man. "You stayed with me throughout the entire day?"

"Well, we both did," the teen said, tilting his head over towards Elisa, "Or rather, I slept while she did, since I was so exhausted after what happened following your petrification."

The gargoyle hummed and redirected his gaze towards the Eyrie Building. "Both of you have my gratitude. But I must return to the castle. The clan will continue to worry if I do not. If possible, I will meet the two of you again later in the evening."

The humans understood how important it was and made no effort to keep Goliath from walking away. Thanks to the oncoming cover of night, the gargoyle was able to approach the nearest tall building without issue and scaled it swiftly. After a minute of two, he ran at the edge and let his wings pick up the drafts below, allowing him to glide on back towards his home. This left the two humans to themselves, and both of them knew that they had somewhere to be. No doubt Elisa's chief was wondering why she had not reported in today, and Verité did not want to keep her any longer than he had to. But before he could make his own way back towards the place his parents and the other Voluntasians were staying, he felt the detective's hand slowly settle on his shoulder, stopping him before he got too far.

"Thanks for the help earlier," she told him, "but there's something that bothers me about those guys we dealt with before."

Verité was not quite sure what she was getting at, since there were a lot of things to consider. "You mean other than the fact that the commandos had somehow managed to get a tracking device on Goliath, were out to kill us and that a few of them turned into Heartless?"

"The first point is what really interests me," Elisa said, pulling out a hand-sized object from one pocket and showing it to the young man, "this is what they were using to track the signal on the transmitter that Goliath had been bugged with. I got it off their leader after taking care of him, and this symbol on the back that shows the company's insignia seems vaguely familiar. I'm pretty sure I've run across it before in the station's files, so I'm going to run it back to the precinct and compare it to what we have on record to see if I can't find out who sent those guys."

The young man scratched at his chin for a moment as he digested all of this, and then found an idea of his own. "Before you do, I'd like to take a couple pictures of it. It may sound fishy to you, but I know someone here who might be able to give me information, and now that you've made all these points, I'm curious too. And after all, doesn't the saying go 'two heads are better than one'?"

The detective blinked at this comment and shrugged, holding the device out at arm's length and keeping the symbol on the back clear from being obscured by her fingers. Verité reached into one of his pockets and dug out his smartphone, tapping the screen a couple times to stir it from sleep mode and open up the camera application. Elisa wanted to ask him how a camera could be so small and thin, but kept her hands where they were as the boy adjusted the settings for low-light conditions, as he wanted as clear a picture as possible. Once all the little adjustments had been made, Verité snapped a couple shots and checked the album to make sure that they were there before putting his phone back into hibernation. He flashed the detective a thumbs up to let her know that he was good, slipping his device back into his pants.

"I didn't know they made cameras that small," Elisa commented as she put the tracker into one of her coat pockets.

The teen chuckled a little bit and pat the spot where he had stowed it away. "Oh, it's not just a camera. It's also a cell phone, and effectively a miniature computer if you want to be even more technical. Still more powerful than most of the things I've seen around here."

"You must come from a pretty advanced world, then," the woman said, a bit impressed at how convenient it all sounded.

Verité shook his head modestly. "Not really. The cities there honestly weren't too different from what you see here, aside from neat little gadgets like this, and maybe some more energy efficient cars and stuff. This place is close to what my parents grew up with, so getting to see the sort of things they had has been something. Oh crap, my folks are probably worried sick! I told them I'd be out last night and would get back sometime way earlier, but...well, you know what happened. I really should be going now, Elisa. Let's meet up after I've checked in with them and sorted all of this out."

Now that his energy had been replenished from sleep, the young man made for the nearest structure, just as Goliath had done a few minutes before. However, unlike the gargoyle, Verité was a bit more pragmatic in his approach and took the stairs to the roof. He was surprised at how easy it was to access the very top of buildings in this city, but he would dwell on the potential implications of that thought another time. So many other implications were swirling around in his head that he could scarcely decide which deserved his attention the most. That in of itself was something to think about, and the teen gave a mental sigh at the absurdity of someone his age having so much to consider.

At the forefront of his mind were the people that had tried to kill him, Elisa and Goliath last night and in the wee hours of the morning today. The timing was too convenient, as though they had all the time in the world to move in and simply chose to do so in an area where there would be the least amount of commotion, but then, that could be written off due to the tracker. Which left him with the point that the detective had been most curious about: how they had gotten the tag on the gargoyle to begin with. Verité thought back to Mog's warning about putting his nose into Xanatos' business, and from what little the Moogle had said, the corporate tycoon did not seem above quietly eliminating threats to his machinations. The problem with that was that the boy had no evidence for his argument.

But perhaps that could be remedied. Verité's hand dove into one of his jeans pockets and swiftly fished out his phone, pressing the power button on the side to bring it out of its sleep. He opened up the text history and saw his little purchase he had made from Mog. Fortunately for him, when he tapped on the window, a text box came up that allowed him to type out a message. The teen's thumbs tapped noisily against the smooth surface as he explained the situation, having to hit the send button every so often due to character limitations. At the end of it, he asked the Moogle to look into the logo he had found and attached the two photos he had taken of the device Elisa had shown him before. He had to wait for a few minutes before Mog sent him a reply, saying that he would look into it and get back to the young man as soon as possible. Verité figured that he may as well buy another round of ethers and potions to replace the ones that he used. Munny disappeared from his currency pouch and the empty bottles he had kept in his carrying case were refilled with the respective contents, just like how the protective belt he had purchased previously had suddenly appeared the last time he used the app.

With that out of the way, his mind wandered to the convenience that the gargoyles had due to their ability to glide on the air currents and obtain the lift that allowed them to soar over the city and around their home. Verité had heard stories that other Masters had the ability to use their Keyblade powers to soar through the air as well, but they were never quite the same. Of all the arts that a Keyblade Master learned during the course of their lifetime, especially those concerning this subject he was focused on, changing the shape of his or her weapon was one of the most useful. Gulbrand had related to the teen and Viscus that while it was certainly possible to achieve during training as an apprentice, the focus and energy involved required a powerful bond with the Keyblade that normally went beyond the rudimentary instruction that Masters gave their pupils. Gulbrand had shown them once before that he was able to do so, and the boys had made it their goal during that time to be able to do the same. Many restless days of trying to find that deeper connection and forging the mindset had ended fruitlessly, the both of them exhausted in their efforts. Verité had no idea if his friend had managed to mold his weapon into another form, and anticipation filled his being at the possibility of beating his friend to the punch if he could pull it off.

Verité proceeded to run towards the edge of the building, concentrating on changing his Keyblade into something that would provide him similar mobility to that which Goliath possessed. Deeply he focused, calling upon the power he had gained from his recent battles, imagining the shape he wanted to make with it. The instant his feet propelled him into the air with the aid of his speed and jumping ability, the great metal blade shifted into its shield form and enlarged greatly so that it extended as long as the length of his body, its width beyond the full span of his arms. Small extensions of its mystical metal clasped about his wrists and ankles as he was gently coerced into a spread eagle, his momentary fall redirected into forward motion as he brought himself parallel to the ground. The velocity was thrilling as he angled himself by what felt like an urging from his Keyblade, swerving through the night sky right out in the open, where he was sure that people would only need to look up and he would be spotted. But at the moment, Verité was just having too much fun and was in awe of his heart's desire come to life.

With another twirl in the air, the youth brought himself before another roof and brought his mind to think about coming in for a landing, his Keyblade-turned-wing pack vanishing in a flicker of light the moment his feet hit the surface. Taking a few long strides to slow and eventually halt his momentum, Verité focused his attention inward to check how this newly awakened talent affected his energy reserves. To his surprise and relief, not an ounce of arcane power had been spent since he had hasted his form, confirming that the transformation of the Keyblade relied entirely on its own workings. With that figured out, Verité once again took a running start and leapt as high as he could into the air. This time, completely ready for the height and speed he would put out, he spread his limbs as they had been during the fall and put all conscious thought into transforming his weapon. In an instant, his Keyblade blinked into the world as the strange glider that he had called upon before, carrying the teen onward when he would have fallen before. Though his speed dropped due to the redirected motion, Verité knew that he would make excellent time in meeting up with his parents so long as he maintained his current velocity. And the best part was that it only required him to keep balanced, and so long as he could keep reasonably still, that was not a difficult task.

In short order, Verité arrived back at the shelter where his parents and the other survivors were holed up for the time being, slipping down the side of the building and dismissing his Keyblade the moment he was able to halt his momentum. He wasted no time and ran inside the moment he could, barging up to the kiosk at the front and placing both hands on the counter. The woman at the desk was startled by his sudden entrance, and he realized that his facial features were a bit intense, so he softened up and took a breath before speaking. It also did not help that he was coming in looking like his clothes had just had a fight with some kind of wild animal.

"Are Mr. and Mrs. Capto available?" The teen asked gently, pulling out an identification card that had been burned around the edges due to his scuffle with the Heartless, "I'm their son. I came in with them yesterday and stayed for a little while. Please, I just need to let them know I'm alright."

The lady took a look at the photo and shook her head, sighing a little bit. "I'm sorry, but the Capto couple stepped out just a few minutes before you arrived. They said that they had an important meeting with someone and signed out through all the normal procedures."

"Damn," Verité muttered under his breath, his fingers drumming along the surface of the kiosk as he thought about what to do next, "They didn't say who they were meeting with, did they?"

"I apologize, sir, but they did not give a name."

"I see. Well, may I at least visit their room? They have all of my remaining belongings and I really need to change out of these things."

The orderly nodded and passed him a sign-in sheet for the young man to fill out while she went back to working at the kiosk in front of her. He entered in the relevant information and then made his way to his parents' quarters. Once inside, the young man made his way over to one of their few suitcases they had managed to bring along, opening it up and fetching a new set of clothes for him to wear. A gray polyester shirt that sported four black bands which outlined his shoulder ridges, two across the front and two along the back, caught his eye for the top, while a pair of black denim jeans seemed perfect for replacing his shredded bottoms. Of course, a fresh pair of BBs also seemed a good idea, as did a change of socks. Verité took only a brief minute to slip out of his now ragged threads and slide into the fresh ones, discarding all of the former articles into a nearby bin with the exception of his somewhat torn gloves and his damaged but still functional belt. His phone had, amazingly enough, survived the punishment that the Heartless from earlier (which he decided to refer to as "Orcus" for the time being), and he set it down on top of the luggage carrier. It probably needed a good charge, so he set about fetching the cord and plugging it into a nearby outlet, thankful that they had the same design as the ones back on Voluntas. Now that he was almost raring to go once more, the teen engaged in a few stretches to help work out some leftover stiffness and to get comfortable in his newly-donned duds.

Verité was startled when the ringtone on his phone suddenly started blaring, the electronic dance beat causing him to rush over and snatch it up. On the screen was a Moogle's face with a number displayed underneath it, one he was not familiar with. Luckily, he did not need to be, as Mog's name was provided in parentheses below the digits. With a breath of relief, the teen subconsciously started to bob his head to the ringtone. But before he could get too lost in it, his thumb swiped across the blinking phone icon and touched upon the confirmatory green circle to its left.

"Mog, you got back to me much quicker than I'd expected," Verité said with a hint of concern in his voice, "Does that mean you've already figured out the supplier to our mysterious pursuers?"

The Moogle on the other end heaved out a sigh. "Well, yeah, that was easy enough. But see, there's a problem: that's not the only thing I found out."

"Why would that be a problem?" the young man asked, one of his brows arching up in suspicion.

Silence persisted for several long seconds before Verité picked up the barest hint of inhaling from the receiver. "Because there's another gargoyle...no, two others out there aside from the ones I saw you hanging around with."

"So what, you go out at night to go people watching? I'd chew your ears about spying on me, but I guess that'll have to be put on hold for the time being. So, these other gargoyles...what can you tell me about them?"

"One of them is a gal, and as far as I know, she's been soaring around the city before you even got here. Haven't managed to get any more details on her since she's never in one spot for more than a few moments."

_But how could that be?_ Verité thought, his face scrunched up in puzzlement._ Goliath and his clan had stated previously that they were the last of their kind. Are they really, though? Sure, I'm no expert when it comes to gargoyles, but maybe Scotland wasn't the only place their species had settled. I guess a rogue member here or there isn't out of the question if that's true, but I don't know for sure. Better ask Mog if he has any more info. _

"Okay, what about the other one?" The boy asked, "You said there were two."

"Well, I did manage to get a closer look at him than the fem. Real creepy, though, because compared to her and your friends, he's much more human-like in appearance. Got these golden yellow eyes, coal black hair, and skin as white as the snow back home. Wears clothes and shoes like a big important business guy, and he seems fond of monochrome. Actually, if it weren't for his horns, wings, and that tail of his, I'd have thought he looked more like a modern-day vampire than a gargoyle."

The description made Verité shudder involuntarily. Even considering the highly varied nature of gargoyle appearances he had already seen in Goliath's clan, this mysterious male sounded like he stood out worse than a white peppered moth on a soot-covered tree. And when he thought about the understandable reservations they still had about trusting humans, he imagined how unnerving it might be if they found a member of their kind that looked so much like one. The teen felt a nagging sensation, one that said he had to find out more about this guy.

"That does sound pretty odd," he murmured, knowing he was understating the whole thing, "Anything else you can tell me?"

A long hum came from the receiver as Mog mulled through his thoughts. "You're not gonna like this, but he can command Heartless."

"What?!" Verité shouted into the phone, earning him a few grumbles from the Moogle on the other end about his ears, "Sorry. But Mog, this could mean that he's the guy who's been responsible for the isolated Heartless appearances lately."

"Not could be, kid, he is. Darkness was oozing off of him as if he was made of the stuff, and with a snap of his fingers, I've seen him conjure up a gang of the things. Can't imagine what he could do if he actually tried."

Before Verité could comment further, his phone started to vibrate, causing him to pull it away from his face and look at the display. His eyes steadily widened as he noticed that he was being called by someone who was not a Moogle or his parents, which he knew should have been impossible. As far as the teen could remember, he had not given out his information to anybody else aside from his folks. He muttered an apology to Mog and asked him to hold. With a tentative press on the screen to connect to the caller, he raised the receiver to his ear and gave a quiet and inquisitive greeting. He did not have to wait at all for a response.

"Hello there, Verité Capto," came a man's tone on the other end which was vaguely familiar, "my name is David Xanatos. We haven't met personally, but you no doubt know who I am."

The boy gripped his phone more firmly, his throat contracting in partial shock. "I am familiar to an extent. How did you get this number?"

"Why, your parents told me," Xanatos answered matter-of-factly, "and from there, it was only a matter of repurposing some spare parts to be able to contact you. I'm out to dinner with them right now, and I have to say they led quite the interesting lives before they moved here. A mechanical engineer and a nurse that together bore a son with unusual, but interesting talents. And please, don't feign ignorance with me. I know all about that weapon of yours and what you've shown yourself capable of doing with it. But before you make any rash decisions, I think it's only fair you should know that your family is enjoying a wonderful evening out."

Verité cursed under his breath at his Keyblade being mentioned, taking a moment to breathe in and regain a little of composure after being hit with this unpleasant revelation. He started pacing around the room, the gears in his head turning at this development. Mog certainly had not exaggerating about the corporate master being no fool. "So, what do you want? I doubt you called me just to exchange pleasantries and show that you know my secrets."

"Nice to know I can add 'keenly observant' to your profile I've been building," the man on the other end commented in an unsettlingly pleased tone, "and since you're being so forward with me, let's not beat around the bush. I want you to help me, using that weapon and powers of yours."

The teen grit his teeth together and had to stifle a contemptuous growl. "Why should I? I'm not interested in money or anything like that."

"I can offer you something more valuable," Xanatos said in a knowing tone, "Job security for your family, several places in well-to-do areas that could house you all, information about a certain someone who was not part of your group of arrivals that is rather well acquainted with you. I'm sure the latter piques your curiosity."

The youth had to pull himself away from the receiver for a moment to think about this. Bribery was usually the first form of persuasion that one expected from a man as rich and powerful as David Xanatos. The prospect of finding a home with his parents was something his father had already started. Without a way to prove their history, however, the boy knew they would probably be unable to work in the professions they had known. And the draw of information about an unknown person that somehow had a considerable amount of intel about Verité himself did catch his interest. Part of him wanted to tell the billionaire where he could shove his offers and be done with the conversation.

He feared for his parents because they had no idea what kind of man Xanatos was. Worse, the corporate genius had beaten him to the punch when it came to making an impression about the sort of person he presented himself as. It was unlikely, Verité considered, that they would change their opinion of him unless the young Master was somehow able to prove his accusations beyond a shadow of a doubt. But in order to do that, he needed solid evidence that Xanatos was involved in shady dealings and had possibly made an attempt on his life already. It would not surprise him if it turned out that those men that Goliath had run into more than once were hired hands that wanted to cut out any possible complications. But then, what was the purpose of having them attack his own estate? Verité did not have enough to go on to be able to explain that one, but he held out hope that Mog had managed to get some dirt on him. Until then, he would have to play hardball.

"Mr. Xanatos, you cannot reasonably expect me to just go along with your proposal just because you claim to have what I want," Verité said lowly enough that no one else could hear, "I'd need proof before considering it."

A small, equally muted chuckle came from the other end. "I see that you're not very trusting. That's a good quality to have in a world like mine, but I'm offering you and the immigrants from your world a golden opportunity here. I'm not asking you to commit crimes or use your abilities for nefarious purposes, nothing that you'd lose sleep over. How about this? Meet me tonight in the castle at the Eyrie Building and we can discuss things in a more professional atmosphere. If you're not comfortable coming alone, I can ask the gargoyles or your parents to attend, if you'd like."

Verité sighed and rubbed at his temple with his other hand, still highly suspicious of this sudden move, but not wanting to be too hasty in making a decision. "Fine. I will come to meet with you tonight, but I'm not making any promises beyond that."

"Fair enough. I look forward to speaking with you face to face, young Mr. Capto. Oh, and please leave your weapons at the door, so to speak. I would prefer an environment where we can speak freely without having to consider the possibility of you pointing a blade at my neck."

The boy tapped the red on-screen icon with his thumb to end the call, his other fingers firmly clasping the hard plastic case. Even though it did not matter much now, he could say with certainty that he should have been more discreet in the way he had left the Eyrie Building. And now that Xanatos had involved his parents, Verité felt pressed to go along with handling business while in the other person's territory, his presumed advantage taken away. He really hoped Mog had some good news to deliver for him.

He resumed his call with the Moogle and breathed out a hefty sigh. "That was Xanatos."

"Xanatos called your phone!?" Mog cried out incredulously, "That's nuts! Oh, I almost forgot about this, Verité, but remember those pictures you sent me? That corporate logo belongs to a subsidiary of Xanatos Enterprises, which means he's the one who hired those guys to try and knock you and your friends off. No doubt that detective you mentioned will find that out shortly, assuming she hasn't already."

The teen stroked his chin a bit as he settled down for a seat on the nearby bed. "Still doesn't really explain why he had those men attack his own estate. If I had to guess about the ambush in the park, it was to get rid of us, though if that were true, I don't think he would bother extending an offer to work for him."

"Watch your back, kid. I don't have any proof, but I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out that Xanatos and our mystery gargoyles had some sort of connection with what's been going on. If things get too dicey, I might have to step in."

"You can actually fight?" Verité wondered aloud with a soft chuckle.

Mog let out a rather audible huff of irritation at that. "Hey, those materials in my store aren't on display because they were donated! Any materials given to Moogles by customers are stored in separate holdings that can be used at any location. All that stuff you saw when you walked in I got from my own scrapes with the Heartless. I'll let you go and get things sorted out, but don't be surprised if I happen to swing by."

The teen gave the Moogle a farewell before hanging up, slipping the phone back into his pocket. With a disappointed expression on his face at having to leave much sooner than he had meant to, Verité gathered all that he needed and returned back to the front to let the woman there know that he was leaving. Bidding a good night to the kiosk, the young Keyblade Master strolled back out into the street. According to his phone, which he still held in one hand, it was a little past 2300 hours.

Sighing at his handful of time, Verité slipped the rectangular hunk of plastic back into his jeans and strode along the sidewalk as he considered the facts. He now had proof that Xanatos had attempted to have Elisa, Goliath, and possibly himself killed and had used the hired hands in a staged attack for some elusive reason. The connection between that and the other gargoyles, if there was any at all, was unclear but not completely dismissible. It probably was not a stretch to assume that the one capable of summoning Heartless saw him as a threat and was the one that had made them appear to antagonist Verité at both the Eyrie Tower and Central Park. It probably also figured by this point that calling a couple groups of the things, even if one of them had boasted a rather strong specimen, would not be enough to deal with the young Master. Hopefully, his survival would draw out the gargoyle and from there he would confront the creature about its aims.

But before that, the teen had to find Elisa and Goliath and let them know about Xanatos. Yes, it was no doubt shocking that the man who had revived the clan would be after his life, but the gargoyle deserved to know what was going on. Part of Verité wondered how he would take the news, especially word of other gargoyles. Goliath would most certainly not be pleased about being betrayed by a human once again, and given the distaste the clan had already built up over the Heartless, learning that a member of his kind was manipulating that sort of darkness would likely only add to his distress. After all, the boy would probably feel the same if someone within his order had turned to the shadows or if a seeming benefactor double-crossed him. Either way, it was some form of treachery, and he would not let himself or his friends become victims to it.

Verité was distracted from his contemplations by the sounds of a subway car passing just by the underground entrance closest to him. Normally, this would not have been such a big deal, as he had visited the inner city back where he lived and it was quite similar to Manhattan. What caused Verité to pause was the sight of the gargoyle that now identified as Hudson running up the stairs, followed by the more feral member of their clan that the young man had seen on his first night in town. The former appeared to be holding a black floppy disk in one of his clawed hands, stirring greater curiosity in the boy that had started to trail him. The previous night, Verité recalled that Hudson did not desire to explore the city, that the world was too different from how he remembered it.

And yet here he was, possessing a piece of modern technology that the teen doubted the gargoyle fully understood. Hudson did not stay grounded for long, though, running into the nearest alleyway to scale a fire escape, his companion requiring an extra lift from him in order to follow. Verité crouched down low before pushing off of his feet as much as he could without using his magic, managing to just barely clear the edge of the building next to the one the gargoyle was scaling. Fortunately, that also allowed his feet to touch down softly enough to keep him quiet, and so Hudson was none the wiser to the boy less than a hundred feet away. Without a word, the gargoyle slipped the disk into the belt around his tunic and fastened it in before moving over to lift the feral creature with him in both arms. Verité watched as he took a lumbering start, then jumped from the roof and spread his wings, gliding back in the direction of the towering figure of the Eyrie Building.

That screamed suspicious to the teenager. But before he could think to pursue Hudson, the sounds of distant gunfire reached his ears. Turning his head towards the source, Verité saw another tall building close to the ocean that looked to be quite the secure area. Surely, the timing of the sound and the gargoyle's departure were a coincidence, or at least that was what the young man believed. He broke into a sprint and leapt from the roof he was on, once more transforming his Keyblade into its wing pack form and coasting into a swift and steady glide from there. While moving in closer to investigate, he figured that it must have belonged some sort of private corporation, as he could make out a faint logo on one of the signs near the edge of the property. Cyberbiotics, it was called, and the boy wondered to himself if it was affiliated with Xanatos in any way. Verité kept his distance for a few moments, suddenly surprised when one of the bolted doors along the outside of the structure was torn clean off its hinges and tossed aside like it was nothing. Calling his Keyblade to him, he braced himself for potential trouble, ready for any Heartless that came his way.

But instead, Verité saw the familiar shapes of the three other gargoyles aside from Goliath and Hudson that he had met during his first night in town. Each of them took to the sky and made haste away from the building, the shouts of people inside echoing after them as they headed off to a safer spot. The boy was quick to follow them, keeping his distance while silently gliding after them. A few minutes passed before they made a landing, appearing to be taking a short break to recuperate from whatever it was that they had been involved in. Verité swooped in around the back of the stairwell near the trio and dismissed his wing pack, sidling up against the wall and leaning near the corner. Dipping his head ever so slightly, the teen peered around the bend and saw a black disk identical to the one that Hudson had been carrying earlier in one of the hands of the olive green gargoyle. He pulled himself back before he could be spotted, though he kept his ears open just in case.

"That was dangerous," the red one said, "but we got what needed. Xanatos will be able to rest easy knowing that we retrieved the disk before the thieves could decipher it."

Verité found himself confused by this. Apparently, someone had stolen something important from Xanatos and he had sent the gargoyles to retrieve what was taken from him. This at least confirmed that Cyberbiotics was not affiliated with his company, but it did not really tell the young man much else at all. What was on those disks that was so important that it would drive a company to steal from one of the most powerful corporations in this world? And if it was so crucial, why didn't Xanatos just pursue legal action and reacquire his pilfered property in a fair trial? Something was not adding up, and Verité was not about to let this chance slip away. With the idea to entreat with the other gargoyles, the teen stepped out from his hiding place and made himself known, catching the three by surprise. When they realized who he was, however, they relaxed their guard.

"Oh, it's Verité!" the blue one remarked, "You scared us! For a second there, I thought we were being chased by those other humans."

The red gargoyle nodded and narrowed his eyes a little bit towards Verité, seeming to be wary of his presence here. "It's strange, the way you just suddenly showed up shortly after we got here. Were you following us?"

"I was," the youth admitted without any shame, his expression kept firm, "But before that, I'd spotted your older friend, Hudson, making off with the same sort of object that your companion is holding. And then the racket you three caused distracted me from that and drew me to where you just were. I couldn't help but overhear that little bit before I showed myself. What exactly is it that Xanatos had stolen from him?"

The three gargoyles looked at each other for a moment before the one that was holding the disk spoke up. "Well, we don't know exactly what's on these things. All Xanatos told us is that they contain a lot of secrets, like a spell book, and how the people who stole them from him were planning on using them for terrible things. So, he sent us to get them back before they could be decoded completely. We couldn't let them use this 'data' to hurt people."

"It's just like Lexington said," the blue one added, tilting his head when he saw Verité's puzzled expression at his words, "Why're you looking at me like that? Do I have food on my face?"

The red one let out a sigh and shook his head at his companion. "No, it's because the last time we saw him, we didn't have names," he explained, prompting a soft "oh" from his clan mate before returning his attention to the teen, "That's the name taken on by our brother with the disk. I'm Brooklyn now, and the other one is Broadway."

Verité was thankful that they now had names by which he could identify them, as it would have been awkward to keep referring to them without such. That aside, the answer they had given him about the contents of the disk only made him more curious. What had Xanatos been developing that he kept the data on multiple floppies? And why was Cyberbiotics after it? Or was this all some sort of elaborate ploy by the billionaire and they were just along for the ride? There were too many questions and complications for Verité to make sense of it at the moment. But perhaps some of them could be answered if he pressed a little more.

"So, if you three went after one and Hudson and your other companion retrieved another," he reasoned, giving the fellows a chance to follow his thinking, "Does that mean Goliath is also in on this whole operation?"

Lexington looked towards Brooklyn, no doubt the leader of their little trio, who nodded to him and the young man in confirmation. "Yes, he was sent to get into the airship owned by those humans," the olive gargoyle replied, "along with our second-in-command that we thought was lost all those years ago. She was the one who helped talk Goliath into this and was the one who told Xanatos where to find Castle Wyvern and our clan. Apparently, she had been revived some time before we were."

The teen pursed his lips as he processed this new bit of information. So there was another gargoyle that he had not met during either of the previous nights, and Lexington had made it clear that they had long presumed her dead until it was just recently proven otherwise. Not only that, but it seemed she was directly responsible for their resurrection. It seemed like a pretty good chance that she was the one Mog had mentioned before, as he had not seen or met any other female gargoyles. Verité could not get all the dots to connect, though, because even these facts came with loaded questions.

If she had been intent on reviving her clan, why had she not revealed herself to them on the night the curse was broken? What had she been doing in the shadows until their reunion? Was her support for Xanatos out of gratitude or was there something more to it than that? And how exactly would retrieving these disks serve the clan in the long run, aside from averting a danger that Verité knew nothing about and partly suspected did not exist? He did not want call the integrity of the companion of his new friends into question right to their faces, but he could not shake his increasing suspicions. And until he could confirm or deny them, he was going to probe as much as he could.

"I see, that is rather fortunate," he said with a half-smile, which faded quickly as he crossed his arms, "I just have another little question for you that's been bothering me. Counting her among your ranks, your clan numbers seven individuals. And yet according to an informant of mine, there are _eight_ of your kind running around in this city. I'd write it off as him miscounting if it weren't for the fact that the description of this mysterious eighth gargoyle doesn't match any of yours or your second-in-command's. Do you guys know anything at all about this?"

Brooklyn shook his head while his comrades either scratched at their chins or gave a shrug of the shoulders. "This is the first we've heard of it. I'd think that Goliath's mate would've brought it up when we saw her before, but maybe she doesn't know. But if there really is another, shouldn't this be welcome news?"

"If only it was," Verité sighed out, his own eyes taking on a serious light, "From what I've learned, this other gargoyle can call upon the Heartless at will, just like any individual with sufficient control over darkness."

The three creatures of the night let out a collective growl, though it was Brooklyn who flexed his claws against the concrete under his feet. "But that's insane! None of our kind would be foolish enough to make a pact with those beasts!"

"I would believe that," the human replied somberly, his eyes casting themselves down at the surface of the roof while one of his hands balled into a fist, "except that even the most well-intentioned people could find themselves in dire straits, willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish what they set out to do. And sometimes, that means letting in the darkness and using those very creatures."

The universe decided that now was a good time to take Verité's focus from his train of thought with a sudden flash of orange. Verité whirled about and suddenly wished that he had not. The sight of a massive, six-turbine air fortress greeted him, which he assumed was the ship that Brooklyn had mentioned, fires billowing out from the control deck and licking up at the shape of the craft. Thankfully, it was steadily descending towards the waterfront and the boy could spot parachutes being opened, no doubt by the crew members that had wisely chosen to abandon ship. Even though those people were party to a potentially dangerous enemy, Verité could not ignore their plight, so he swiftly activated his Keyblade's wing pack form and left the gargoyles to rush over and help these people in need. The trio considered going after him, but they had a job to do, unfolding their wings and making the glide back towards the Eyrie Tower under the cover of this chaotic situation.

Verité flew in as close as he could before he dismissed his ability, landing quietly on the cable of a bridge that stretched across the river. The airship had just entered the water when he arrived and an unmarked black car with a single red siren came rolling in. To the teen's pleasant surprise, Elisa was the one to emerge from the vehicle, a look of shock on her face as she watched some of the escaped crew make their way towards the docks. Maybe he could ask her about the research she had said she would be doing while he helped out. That in mind, he slid down the side of the suspension cables and used a bit of low gravity to soften his landing on the pavement. Afterwards, he made his way over to the detective, trying to get her attention by waving her down.

"Elisa!" He called, slowing his pace and stopping short a body's length away from her.

The black-haired woman turned around and flashed him a relieved smile before returning to her concerned expression. "Verité, what are you doing here?"

"I saw what was going on and made my way over," he explained quickly, "I'd just met with a few of the gargoyles before this whole mess happened, and they said this company had stolen some important data from Xanatos. I didn't think he would have them go this far, though."

Elisa's face turned dark for a moment before she reached into her coat and pulled out a card with the same emblem she and Verité had seen on the tracking device picked up from the group that had chased them earlier in the day. "It didn't take me long to find out where I'd seen this before," she said rather intensely, her eyes meeting the young man's, "turns out it belongs to a robotics firm owned by a major corporation based in this city. Know which one?"

"Xanatos'," Verité uttered just loud enough for her to hear, "My informant I mentioned earlier confirmed it for me just a little while ago."

The detective nodded. "That's right, which means the attack Goliath told us about was probably a set-up by Xanatos to gain the trust of the gargoyles by playing the role of the victim. Going on that, it's safe to conclude Cyberbiotics never took anything from him, so he's the thief here. With that evidence, I can finally bring him in. Did your contact say anything else about Xanatos?"

"Nothing solid aside from what you've said," the boy said, air puffing out from his nose as he let out another sigh, "But I did hear something about a rogue gargoyle or two. If they're connected to Xanatos at all, there's no surefire way of knowing without confronting either party. I probably don't have to tell you that it would be best to let Goliath know. Maybe with his help, we can get to the bottom of this and figure out what's really going on."

"There is no need to go so far."

The two were startled by the addition of a third voice and turned towards the source. Standing on the edge of the shore as if it had always been there was another gargoyle, but unlike any of the ones they had met. It had a masculine face that was the same pale color of flesh as someone deprived of sunlight for extended periods, his head topped by a short and wavy collection of black hair. The eyes held dangerous glaring golden irises framed around human-shaped pupils and set back against white sclera, while a small pair of horns equally as blanche as his flesh poked out above the strange gargoyle's forehead. Despite also sporting a lengthy reptilian tail and a pair of slender bat-like wings that jutted out from between his shoulders, the figure seemed unsettlingly human. He was even dressed in a black business coat and white formal shirt that had been fitted for his wings, along with dull gray dress pants that had room for his tail to slip through. Unlike the other gargoyles, he wore white dress shoes and black socks which seemed to indicate that his feet were much more like a human's than a normal gargoyle's. He was just as Mog had described.

But there was something else about him that bothered Verité. The face seemed familiar; not just the eyes but the whole of it. The hair reminded the teen of Viscus, both in its color and its waviness, though the gargoyle sported a less groomed look than his friend. Even that felt nostalgic, however, and the more Verité thought about it, the more it confused him. He knew for a fact that he had never met this gargoyle before now, and yet his appearance felt so recognizable. As much as he wanted to get lost in the ramifications of all this, Verité willed himself to return his focus to the present.

Verité took in a breath before gently tilting his head towards his acquaintance, his Keyblade appearing in his right hand. "Elisa, you go on ahead and meet up with Goliath," he whispered to her, "This is one of the guys I was talking about. Let Goliath know what's happening so that he can get here as quick as possible. I have a feeling I'll need the extra help."

Taking heed of the warning, Elisa made her way back to her car and soon was on her way out, leaving the two others alone. The gargoyle sneered towards the human that had remained and swung one of his hands out, dark energy emanating from the palm. As if heeding a call to arms, a veritable sea of Heartless began to creep out from the shadows around the area, the murky waters, and even right out of the air, forming a massive circle around both their summoner and the boy that was facing off with him. Their numbers were composed mostly of the lesser shadows the Master was overly familiar with, but also present were their larger and deadlier cousins, the imp-like variants he had seen on his first night, and yet more of the artificial "commando" types he had encountered earlier on in the day. Verité shifted his weapon to its shield form so that he would be prepared to counter, but he otherwise did not make any sort of move. He would not be resorting to violence quite yet, though he figured that it would come to that in due time. After all, why would the gargoyle call out his legions of darklings if he did not intend to use them?

"Well, I suppose this explains why I haven't run into as many Heartless as I expected," Verité mused aloud to the being across from him, "Am I to assume that you're the one Xanatos spoke of when he mentioned an accomplice that knew a lot about me?"

The strange gargoyle folded his arms and stared down the boy confronting him. "You assume correctly, child. My name is Lett, and I was sent to this world to guide these flawed creatures towards a more laudable existence, as well as keep tabs on you. Despite what this looks like, I have strict orders not to do away with you. However, I am allowed to use more aggressive methods should you prove to be a thorn in my side, and should you choose to pursue a path of resistance, I have no qualms about beating you within an inch of your life."

"Orders?" The teen mumbled to himself, trying to make sense of the statement. "So you answer to someone else, then. I'm guessing it's not Xanatos, but rather someone a bit closer to you in terms of ability, like the guy who unleashed the Heartless on Voluntas."

Lett's face twisted into a smirk at Verité's guesswork. "You really are a smart kid. I'll admit that I do not answer to that man and that all your previous assumptions are on the mark, but nothing more. Seeing as how the first couple waves you fought before were insufficient in deterring you, I am curious as to how you will handle numbers like these."

In the blink of an eye, the pasty-skinned gargoyle flickered out of the circle and reappeared on top of one of the bridge's supports, one leg folded over the other as he sat on the edge. Lett raised that same hand that had called the Heartless to him and directed his index finger towards Verité, an amused grin on his face. Instantly, the horde of darkness began to close in on the Master, claws extended and ready to tear into him.

Verité swept his free hand out in front of him, a transparent spherical barrier composed of numerous hexagons erecting itself around him just as one of the shadows attempted to strike. The moment its claw struck the surface of the spell, the field exploded outward into hundreds of sickle-shaped blades of energy that tore through all the Heartless within range. The air echoed with loud hisses as they were reduced to nothing more than dissipating black wisps of smoke, but their forces were just as quickly replaced by the ones that were not affected. The young Master leapt out of the diminishing circle towards Lett, flipping his weapon back into its blade form and taking hold of it in both hands to deliver a blow at the gargoyle. But once he was within a body length of his foe, Verité was repelled back by an invisible force, tumbling through the air back down towards the ground.

A momentary application of low-gravity allowed the boy to right himself and land safely, twisting around and slashing at another three of the Commandos that had tried to strike while he was vulnerable. More than twice as many Imps replaced them and lunged for the boy, two of them grabbing onto his arms and weighing them down while another couple held onto his legs. Though somewhat encumbered, Verité still managed to bring his Keyblade close and bathe his body in a cocoon of white light, charging forward in a dash and vaporizing the little nuisances hanging onto him as well as other Heartless that had gotten in his path. Just when the brilliance faded, a pair of Neoshadows jumped up from their hiding places in the shadows and dragged their claws across his back, catching the teen off guard.

Verité drew in a sharp breath as the hot pain spread over his spine, his grip on his weapon tightening as he whirled around to hack straight across the middle of both of his assailants, reducing them to nothing in short order. A loud snap interrupted his focus and he turned to gaze up at Lett, who merely cracked another grin as dozens of floating black and blue ball-shaped Heartless, each sporting the characteristic yellow eyes and three pink-frayed tentacles, descended towards the teen. The front-most bunch charged at him, chomping noisily with their jagged mouths, while the remainder vanished into clouds of purple vapor and spread out over the area, no doubt seeking a better vantage to fight their prey. At the same time, more lesser Shadows jumped at Verité or scurried forward, claws swiping this way and that to try and rake across the Master.

But the practiced warrior was more than ready this time. He brought his Keyblade close to his body and adopted a brilliant gold aura around it, power surging through every vein in his being. Verité felt as though he was suddenly on autopilot, for his arms began to swing and flail in front of him, a flurry of twelve chaotic slashes knocking Heartless out of the air and slaying them where they stood. After the initial assault, these forced motions faded and allowed his arms to go slack, but he was not quite done yet. Still shining brilliantly, Verité formed four gilded rings of light that wrapped around his body and delivered an overhead strike in front of him. This caused one of the rings to reshape into a crescent blade that tore a path through everything in front of it, even going so far as to leave a charred mark on the pavement even after it dissipated. A circular motion followed that made a second ring expand outward, repelling any Heartless that got in its way and outright destroying the weaker ones that collided with its edges. When Verité raised his Keyblade with both hands, the third circle fell to his feet and its glow intensified for moment before it shot up, a pillar of light exploding into being and annihilating any of the dark creatures unfortunate enough to be caught in the blast. And for the finale, the young wielder jumped as high as his legs would allow him to, his weapon's tip pressing into the base of his spine as he brought it behind his head.

"Defend me from darkness, Abwehr!" Verité shouted in plea to his Keyblade, the silver shaft's aura intensifying as called its true name and focused his power, "Ars Sanctum!"

With a forward flip, the teenage Master belted out a fierce battle cry and began to bring his final attack down as he worked with gravity, light trailing off of Abwehr's form as he hurtled towards the ground. It was only moments after that the blade struck the ground, a single ear-splitting clang reverberating throughout the area and causing all else to become momentarily silent. Seconds later, white light engulfed Verité's vision and a deafening roar filled his ears as his Keyblade's power exploded outward, the pavement underneath him cracking and giving way. Heartless, which were barely visible after some slight adjustment to the scintillation, began to fade away in small clouds of particles, their forms growing ever more scattered until they were one with the light.

When it faded, there were none left before the warrior. To his pleasant surprise, the entire horde that Lett had called had been eradicated, but the collateral damage he had caused was understandably alarming. Some of the shore looked like the river had decided to reclaim it, with pavement crumbling into the waters while the roads near the battlefield were scarred by his flashy attack. However, the bridge upon which the gargoyle sat was completely unharmed and the individual in question had not budged a single inch from his spot. Verité let Abwehr relax in his grip, taking a moment to draw in some needed breaths. Even with the boost he had gained from the previous fights, that technique still took a lot out of him. His hand flew into the pack that held his restoratives and he pressed an ether onto his tongue, shuddering as the concentrated cube of arcane energy melted and spread throughout his body, replenishing some of his reserves.

Lett puffed out his cheeks and pressed one of his hands to his forehead, his lips curling up into an insidious smile. "Quite an impressive technique. But you've already wasted so much strength and consumed one of your precious healing items. I, on the other hand, have more than enough energy to keep calling Heartless here. Still, I suppose you do deserve a tiny round of applause for your showmanship."

The gargoyle's hands rose up in front of him and spread apart. Verité quirked an eyebrow at this, though Lett just maintained his unnerving smirk as he brought his palms together.

Clap!

A hundred Shadows rose out of the blackened concrete, twitching their antennae and uncurling their claws as they looked towards the Keyblade Master.

Clap!

Another eighty Imps peeled themselves off the sides of the bridge's cable and fluttered down to join the others. If they could cackle, Verité had no doubt that their cacophony would have sent chills down his spine.

Clap!

Sixty portals appeared overhead, each with a small rope falling from their black centers. Down them slid an equal number of Commandos, the thumping of boots filling the air as they landed.

Clap!

Forty Darkballs phased into existence, their entrance marked by their slowly shrinking gateways they had ripped in space. They chattered and snapped hungrily at their air, floating around above while they fixated on the boy below.

Clap!

Twenty Neoshadows sprung up in-between clusters of their lesser brethren, slowly striding towards Verité. The young man found himself inching closer to the edge of the shoreline, clutching Abwehr close to him. It was then, facing down 300 more Heartless, that Verité noticed the gargoyle had finally relented with his applause and started to speak once more.

"Shall I add more, boy?" He bellowed out, hopping off his roost and swooping down in front of the teen, his wings steadily beating as they kept him afloat, "After all, you house quite the significant amount of strength. Perhaps 500 would be more to your liking? A thousand, maybe? Or should we shoot for the moon and summon enough to end with a one-to-one ratio for the entire metropolitan area?"

Verité grit his teeth together and felt the hilt of Abwehr dig into his palms. "You're bluffing. There's no way you could call millions of Heartless on your own."

"Are you sure you want to test that theory?" Lett retorted, his arms folding across his abdomen, "I mean, you have no idea what I'm really capable of. That being said, it wouldn't be very economical if I did summon such an exorbitant number."

The young man snorted and held out his Keyblade more steadily, the point leveled at the gargoyle. "I think you're also afraid of them turning on you."

That was when Lett did something completely unexpected. He laughed. It was slow and somewhat hushed at first, but the amusement became clear enough in his chuckles. The gargoyle's utterances soon rose into thunderous cackles, the pale figure gripping at his sides as if they were aching. Verité wanted to know just what was so funny, but he remained stolid, figuring that he would be enlightened soon enough. Moments later, his foe regained some sense of composure and took a more appropriate posture, his fangs showing clearly.

"Of all the things," Lett said, slowly shaking his head with a mirthful smile still on his face, "You think I'm frightened of_ them_? I have no reason to be. And the answer is very simple. In fact, it's so simple that I'm not even going to bother telling you. After all, you're such a clever boy that I'm sure the solution won't elude you for long."

At that moment, a gunshot rang through the air. A light thump sounded as Lett was thrown off-balance in the air and forced to land. He folded one of his wings inward and found his eyes widening at a sizable hole in one of the membranes between joints, whirling around to scowl at whoever dared to raise such a weapon against him. He and Verité spotted Elisa, holding a pistol in both hands that was still giving off smoke from its barrel. Beside her stood Goliath, his face scrunched up into an intimidating glare as he looked over at the other gargoyle.

Though their appearance was a welcome sight, the surprises were not over yet. From between the two came a familiar Moogle, though he looked quite different in certain respects. One of Mog's paws held a crimson three-pronged spear with a black shaft that was one-and-a-half times as long as he was tall, and considering he was by no means a shrimp for his kind, that was saying something. Over his other arm was a gold-rimmed shield that had a white and silver surface spread along the traditional pentagonal shape. An ice blue scarf was draped around his neck and some of his upper body, while his head was framed by an exotic helmet, something one would expect more on a samurai than a Moogle. On the antenna below his pompom was a simple yellow ribbon, and his feet were clad in a pair of form-fitting, gold-tinted shoes.

"It would seem we have arrived not a moment too soon," Goliath rumbled lowly, wings fanning out to the side and muscles tensing as he readied for combat, "I apologize for our tardiness, Verité. I was initially doubtful of Elisa and Mog's claims that there was another gargoyle moving independently about the city using the Heartless as his minions, but now I see they were right."

Mog let his weapon fall calmly into both hands and spread his legs as he took up a fighting stance, his squinting even tighter, if that was even possible. "I'm sure he understands, big guy. Between this creep sending out Heartless and Xanatos yanking you guys around, it's been a long couple of days."

"You got that right," Elisa added, narrowing her eyes as she took aim once more, "Now let's send them all packing."

**(Recommended Listening: Polemos (Battle Theme) - Final Fantasy VI: Balance and Ruin) **

The leader of the "Manhattan Clan" only responded with a brief nod before he let out a fierce snarl, one of his mighty arms sweeping out in front of him and sending a score of the mob of Heartless flying. Elisa brought up her handgun and popped a few shots at a cluster of Darkballs that attempted to dive bomb Goliath, her bullets piercing their unnatural bodies and causing them to evaporate into smoke. Verité was about to ask how an ordinary weapon could do such a thing until he noticed the soft white glow emanating from the pistol. His eyes turned towards Mog, who only flashed him a knowing grin before spinning his spear above his head and tapping the blunt end against the ground. As the air lit up with a bluish shine, three shimmering orbs descended towards a section of the crowd, each seemingly fixed in a shared orbit. Upon connecting with one of the shadows, they exploded outward in numerous flashes of light, every blast blowing apart a handful of Heartless.

Verité took this moment to lunge for Lett, but the gargoyle expected him to try this, disappearing for a moment before flickering back into place in mid-air once more. The young Master improvised his missed attack and exposed the waiting Shadows under him to zero gravity, leaving them helplessly floating in the air. Goliath sprung upward and eliminated a good chunk of them with one slash of his claws, his other hand reaching out to grab the teen's and throwing him towards the rest. Verité tucked himself into a ball and kept Abwehr pointed straight out, the momentum from the gargoyle's toss allowing him to easily break through the remainder of the prone and drifting creatures. He landed soon after and held one hand high before slamming it down flatly against the pavement, a massive lightning bolt crashing down into a pack of Commandos and frying them to dust, their captured hearts soon floating towards freedom.

Lett's brow creased so deeply that his horns tilted down, and with another snap of his fingers, the Heartless' numbers were replenished to what they were before the young Master's friends had decided to interfere. Following that, he washed his injured wing with a gentle green light, closing up the wound that the detective had caused. His eyes scanned the area below, seeking out the woman that had done him harm, finding her before long. With a smirk, he lifted one of his index claws and pointed it her way, chuckling as the sound of a clock's pendulum filled the air The noise grew steadily more drawn out, Elisa's movements slowing with every tick until she was moving at a fraction of the pace she normally could. To her, the Heartless around her were moving at a breakneck speed, much too fast for her to get a good mark on any of them. The detective let out a slow-motion gasp as a Neoshadow lunged straight for her chest, claws extended as it moved in for the killing blow.

Luckily for Verité and Goliath, Mog rushed to her side faster than she could blink and thrust his spear tip into the monster, ending its attack before it could land the hit. The Moogle then flipped his weapon over one shoulder while his other hand quickly waved in front of Elisa. In moments, she was surrounded by a deep ocean blue column of energy, white rays rising through it like raindrops falling up. It faded momentarily and by that point, the detective had returned to normal speed. Once she had recovered from the shock of being slowed, Elisa shot a pair of Commandos that had sought to sneak up on Mog and ambush him. The Moogle noticed her handiwork and flashed a thumbs up to thank her for the coverage, while she merely nodded and resumed firing into the crowd of Heartless.

Verité flung his Keyblade like a boomerang while he jumped high in the air, his weapon taking off the heads of a number of Commandos, Neoshadows, and Imps before returning to him just as he vaulted off of a Darkball. With the tip pointed towards the ground below, the young Master gathered a great sphere of light at the very end, smaller beams of energy twisting towards the center. The Keyblade kicked back like a shotgun as he fired off Ragnarok, its rays spiraling through the air like a vortex before scattering off and seeking out choice targets. All the Heartless struck by the blasts were either vaporized or reduced to wisps in clean and simple fashion.

And they were just as quickly replaced with another finger snap from Lett, the gargoyle turning to face Verité and extending one arm. In but a brief moment, a sphere of blue fire the size of a balance ball swelled into being in front of his palm, and it was only seconds later that its creator wound his arm back and hurled it at the teen. Verité once more called upon his reflect barrier to shield him from the attack, which struck the honeycomb force field and caused it to shatter into its numerous sickle blades, slicing apart the Heartless closest to him. But though the initial blow had been repelled, the sphere suddenly doused the whole area in a blinding flash, followed by an explosive roar. Pain shot over Verité's entire body, his skin seared by the blast of energy and his ears ringing from the volume of its reaction, only able to feel the vibrations of his yells as he crumpled to the ground. A violent stinging sensation coursed through his form after what felt like minutes suffering from the burns, but it was short and soon replaced by a feeling of refreshment. He opened his eyes and noticed that the whiteness had faded, allowing him to survey the field once more.

Most of the Heartless had been incinerated by the friendly fire, and though they seemed physically fine otherwise Elisa and Goliath sported scorch marks. Mog, however, seemed completely fine as not a single scratch could be seen on his form. Lett's eyes narrowed at the Moogle and he flung two fingers forward, violet lightning crackling from his claws and arcing straight at his quarry. Mog flipped his shield in front of himself and Verité watched in amazement as the bolt was completely absorbed by the metal without any ill effect. As the holder of that shield flashed him a confident grin, the human-like gargoyle ground his teeth together and flared his wings out to his sides, clearly agitated.

"Damn Moogle!" He shouted, his nails digging into his palms as he squeezed his hands tight, "Your kind is not supposed to be this tough or well-equipped!"

Mog wagged a finger disapprovingly at his opponent. "You should've done your homework then, because I'm not just any Moogle!"

Lett snarled and brought his fists together into a rather audible bump, his Heartless horde replenishing its losses and increasing in size to better contend with the threats. Goliath made his way through their ranks, swatting them to his sides and making a jump for the other gargoyle, catching him by surprise and bringing him down into the concrete below. Lett quickly hopped back to his feet and looked over his damaged clothes, glaring daggers at his foe before discarding his formal wear, leaving him with only a black pair of boxer shorts and revealing a bevy of muscle that had been hiding under his other clothes. Goliath's eyes became entirely white as he charged forward, his hands reaching out and locking into the other male's, their arms trembling as they fought to gain dominance over one another. Lett leaned back so far that he let his feet leave the ground and curl up close to him, rolling onto his back as he pulled Goliath down with him and kicked up into his gut. The clan leader growled out as he was forced to let go and was sent flying from the force, but a quick flip in the air allowed him to right himself and he touched down smoothly on his feet. They ran at one another again, Lett's eyes mirroring Goliath's except for the fact they were solid yellow, much like the creatures he had summoned.

Elisa moved in closer to pick off the Heartless that tried to harass Goliath while Verité covered her, slashing through any stray dark creatures that came too close. Twice she had to eject her empty clips and put in loaded ones while they made their way towards the two clashing gargoyles, the air more filled with gunshots and the hissing of Shadows and others that fell to her expert marksmanship. Mog had chosen to slowly work his way over to them as well, jabbing out at the Shadows and Imps that attempted to scratch him while also occasionally flinging large chunks of ice from his shield hand to get rid of the bigger guys. Judging from the struggle going on between Lett and Goliath, it was clear that the former possessed more technique, but the latter seemed to have greater brute strength. The lighter of the gargoyles bounced very lightly on his feet, allowing him to duck and weave out of the way of the larger one's swings, at one point knocking an arm away with one hand and delivering a quick jab to his enemy's face. While the blow made him flinch, Goliath reached forward and grabbed Lett by the shoulder, his other hand pulling back and returning the favor to the white male, sending him staggering backwards for a few steps.

Verité took that as his chance to zero in on Lett, leaping over dozens of Heartless and bring Abwehr parallel to his body as he held it up. Unlike before, he lowered the end of his Keyblade so that it pointed directly at the gargoyle and felt his feet leave the ground as he picked up speed, his weapon feeling as though it was tugging him along for the ride. A platoon of Commandos attempted to stop him, but Verité bowled them over and struck Lett right in the gut. But instead of stopping, the young Master went flying past his adversary and then slammed one foot down against the pavement, pulling a quick 180-degree turn to soar back towards the gargoyle. Still off balance from the first hit, Lett was unprepared for the next blow as Verité rammed him in the chest, causing the Heartless summoner to reel back. Four more times the teen spun on his heel and assaulted the antagonistic gargoyle, swinging his arm back as he did one more turn to apply some extra force behind his last attack in the combo. The result was Lett being sent sprawling into one of the supports for the bridge, his back and wings smacking against it with a painful sounding thud.

But he did not stay that way for long. Pushing away from the surface, Lett focused his attention on the four of them and angrily tossed another flaming blue sphere their way. Verité's eyes widened when he realized it was larger than the previous one and transformed his Keyblade into its defensive state, holding it steady in front of him with both arms and bracing for impact. Mog raised his own shield and slid over to the young Master's side, calling to the others to get behind them and hit the deck. Everyone shut their eyes as the same white light from before enveloped the group, as did the thunderous boom, heat washing over the forms of Abwehr and the Moogle's shield. The latter of the two began to glow the same shade of blue as the fire and the flames slowly began to be drawn in by the mystical protection. The former's repelling properties scattered much of the force, some of it being redirected towards Mog's shield and absorbed into the metal. Fortunately, due to their position, Elisa and Goliath felt nothing more than discomfort, though they were still hesitant to open their eyes.

Just as before, many of the surrounding Heartless had been caught in the explosion and incinerated, while the few that had not succumbed to it were ignited, a couple disappearing into smoke as they gave in to their burns. The group of fighters that faced down their leader were mostly unscathed this time thanks to their quick thinking. Verité returned his Keyblade to its attack form and kept it low and at the ready while Mog kept his spear crossed diagonally over his chest. Elisa picked herself up and loaded a fresh clip into his handgun, Goliath unfurling his wings and brandishing his claws in a challenging manner towards the other gargoyle. Lett, however, merely leered at them contemptuously, his tail slapping the ground behind him with enough force to crack the pavement.

The four companions spread out, Elisa and Goliath taking down the last remaining Heartless and soon joining Mog and Verité in attacking their controller. The pale gargoyle swerved out of the reach of the Moogle's spear and used his claws to catch the boy's Keyblade, shrugging it off to the side before whipping him in the waist with his tail, sending Verité tumbling and rolling into a crouch. The detective with them let loose with her pistol, but Lett either flicked each of the lightning fast projectiles away or tilted himself just far enough to avoid them. Due to his preoccupation with the other attacks, however, he was unable to stop Goliath from getting a hit in, flinching as he took another fist to the face.

Mog raised his weapon over his head and brought both of his feet together as he suddenly went still, a soft blue aura wrapping around his body. "Kupo, kupo-po!" The Moogle cried out, each syllable of his strange call emphasized by a tap of his feet and a swing of his arms. For the first time, Verité saw the ocean blue eyes of his friend, though aside from the pupils and an additional pair of black bands beyond the iris, the entirety of the orbs, including the sclera, were a deep azure shade. As if in a trance, Mog began to dance, his movements swift and vivacious. The air suddenly became frigid and to everyone's surprise but the dancer's, snow and frost started to coat the ground around the shore while the surface of the water began to freeze over, the ice stretching out more than a hundred yards from its origin point. And just when they thought it was over, Mog's expression intensified, a sphere of ice and snow appearing as if from nowhere and striking Lett square in the jaw, exploding into fragments and making him wince from the blow. A second pelted him in the chest, a third his abdomen, and soon the gargoyle found himself being forced backwards as a barrage of icy snowballs slammed into him and broke into cold shrapnel.

Elisa took careful aim, her arms moving to keep up with Lett as he was battered by Mog's unorthodox attack and then squeezing the trigger in quick succession. To her satisfaction, her bullets tore holes in the white wings of the gargoyle, who roared in both frustration and pain. True, this guy was trouble, but she had always been taught to shoot to disable first. And besides, there were a lot of questions that she was sure only Lett knew the answers to. Her sight refocused towards his legs and she popped a couple of shots, watching as they grazed his ankles and darkness began to spill out of his wounds instead of blood. Next were his arms, each shoulder taking a hit along the blades and both palms studded with central holes from the bullets.

Verité closed in and came up next to Goliath, each of them belting out a battle cry before they charged, a flurry of claws and a swinging Keyblade bearing down on Lett. Unable to keep up, the gargoyle found himself thrown back and forth by the force of their assault, letting out grunts of agitation. Goliath pounded his hands into the ground, sending enough of a shock through it to cause Lett to fly up into the air where he was smacked back down by a shield bash from Verité. Abwehr shifted into wing pack form as the teen took the enemy by his arms and glided towards his ally, letting go of him and pulling up just as Goliath delivered a stunning punch. Lett snarled out as his world went dizzy, his form careening straight towards Mog.

The Moogle tapped his feet and gave his body a twirl, shield and spear both pointed towards the gargoyle and his aura intensifying. A surge of snow thundered towards Lett, enough to make a potentially devastating avalanche. Having been unable to heal his injuries, the dark being took the full force of the mobile blizzard, howling out his frustration as he was carried away by the current. It came to an end as he was pushed out onto the frozen waters and collapsed through the ice, weighed down by the literal tons of white powder. At last, Mog fell out of his trance and stopped dancing, bringing his shield hand to his head and rubbing at it some. Verité thought that his own flashy moves required a lot of energy, so he could not imagine the headache the Moogle was experiencing.

As a result, the snow quickly melted, as did the ice, and the air returned to its cool evening breeze from the nippy gale it had been moments ago. Lett proved tenacious and dragged himself out of the waters, hacking and coughing a little bit as he brought himself onto the docks. While he had shown irritation throughout the battle, it was clear to them now that the gargoyle was right infuriated at the turn of events. Slowly he stood up, his raven hair pinned to his scalp and covering one eye as he let his fangs visibly show.

**(End Recommended Listening) **

"I'm sure you would understand why I might be a little _pissed off_ right now," his words came out in deliberate growls and spits, eyes still fully shining that unsettling golden color, "Since I'm not allowed to kill you, I cannot use my full strength. And if I cannot do that, then I cannot properly contend with four opponents that have the ability to actually hurt me!"

Verité scoffed and gave Abwehr a twirl as he brought the blade out in front. "Be that as it may, I still say we won."

"We have beaten you," Goliath said, arms crossed over his chest and wings tucked close to him like a cape. "Now tell us why you are using the Heartless to attack Manhattan."

Lett uttered a raspy chuckle and allowed a malicious grin to replace the scowl he was wearing just moments ago, his eyes finally losing their shine and returning to normal. "Please, you think this is some sort of game where I tell you what I know just because you managed to take me by surprise? I may be winded and dazzled right now, but I'm hardly beaten. Oh, and just so you know, boy, the night grows older every moment. I would get a move on if you want to speak with your acquaintance before it ends. As for me, I'll be letting myself out before I burst another black vessel from this humiliating venture."

With a snap of his fingers, a dark portal opened up just behind the gargoyle, taking on the familiar oval shape that Verité recognized from the attack on Voluntas. With an obscenely offensive gesture, Lett stepped back through the inky depths and faded away, but not before the young Master attempted to go after him. He was too late, though, and the tear in space closed up and vanished just as the teen reached the rim of the shadowy gateway, an echo of amused chuckles ringing in his ears.

Verité let out a tired sigh and turned back towards the other three, reaching into his pouch and administering another ether under his tongue. "I shouldn't have expected him to cooperate after everything that's happened, but it's no less frustrating that he got away so easily."

"Eh, typical 'exit stage whatever' maneuver," Mog said with a shrug of his shoulders, placing the butt of his spear against the ground so that it stood up straight in his hand, "But did you hear what he said? Sounds like my suspicions might not be too crazy. If he and Xanatos aren't mutually exclusive issues, then there's no telling what they've got in store."

Elisa returned her gun to its holster and crossed her arms. "And considering how strong he was, I'm a bit worried about the others, Goliath."

"Indeed," the gargoyle concurred, turning towards the direction of the massive form of the Eyrie Building in the distance, "Weakened as he is, he can still wield his dark magic. Let us make haste!"

-A Clan of Steel-

The trio that Verité had met up with earlier were now leisurely hanging out on top of the tallest of Wyvern's towers, each of them preoccupied with one thing or another. Lexington was typing away on a small portable computer, his curious mind delving into the wonders of the technology and its applications. Broadway had gathered a large assortment of food and drinks that came in colorful packs, wrappers and containers, the rounded gargoyle taking a little bit from each with a goofy smile that made it look like he was in heaven. And lastly, Brooklyn was gazing out at the city lights, a newly acquired pair of sunglasses hanging over his eyes. Hudson and Bronx had retired to one of the rooms within the castle itself, the old warrior claiming that he wished to see more of the sights that television could offer. The three of them were pretty sure that he was just a bit cranky and sore from tonight's mission and wanted to get away from the young ones in some way.

Brooklyn took in a breath of the evening air and let out a contented sigh. "You know? I think I'm gonna like this century."

"Yeah," Broadway added, noisily stuffing his face with food, "We had a little trouble adjusting at first, but I think everything's gonna be fine now."

Murphy's Law proved them wrong quickly enough as a laser blast shot through the pack of tater tots the cyan gargoyle had just been holding, causing them all to jump and drop some of the items they had gathered after their mission. When the three whirled about, they saw a group of five black and gray metallic gargoyles, all equipped with cold red eyes, that were almost identical in appearance to Goliath. To add further shock, they saw Xanatos keeping a safe distance while his assistant and their second-in-command stood on either side of him. The business tycoon put on a rather unamused face before he fixed his gaze on the Manhattan Clan's present members and pursed his lips into a thin and serious line.

"Attack."

The robotic gargoyles straightened out and deployed their wings, firing up their rocket boosters to propel them into the air. Soon soaring at breakneck speeds towards their targets. Their organic counterparts scattered as a volley of lasers came their way, though Broadway was caught up in the debris from the storm. He tumbled about in mid-air, trying to right himself and join the others in dealing with the sudden new threat. But he was struck in the shoulder by a beam, falling out of the sky and reaching for the outcropping of one of the tower's parapets. A combination of his weight, the weakness of his injured arm, and relative age of the structure caused the stone he was grasping to come loose, sending him downward once more. With a violent crash, Broadway smacked into the fortifications below, some of the stones cracking and falling over his form. He struggled to pick himself up, but dazed as he was, the gargoyle could not manage it and instead slumped back into the wall, groaning sorely and losing consciousness among the rubble.

Lexington glided through the air on his webbed wings, narrowly avoiding shot after shot from the mechanical menace that was hounding him. His swaying flight was factored into the artificial memory of the robot, its programming running diagnostics to correct its trajectory. The metal gargoyle raised the arm that held its laser cannon, eyes blinking a few times as it traced the path of its target, a crosshair appearing in its vision over Lexington. Rather than fire at where the glider was, it predicted the gargoyle's next position with perfect accuracy, letting loose a red stream of energy that hit the sensitive midsection between its quarry's wings, rewarding it with a sharp and agonized cry. Unlike Broadway, Lexington felt such great pain, due to being struck in quite the vulnerable spot, that he blacked out in mid-glide.

Xanatos could not help but gloat a little bit at the performance his creations were putting on, a satisfied smile clear on his face as he observed their handiwork. "What did I tell you, Owen? A vast improvement. They're steel instead of stone. They don't sleep during the day. They can fly instead of glide. And best of all, they're one hundred percent obedient."

Luckily for Lexington, Brooklyn swooped in to catch his tumbling clan mate by the arms. But with nearly double his own weight to carry, the red gargoyle was a sitting duck for the same robot that had downed the other. It did not need to bother correcting its algorithms in order to get a clean sight on Brooklyn, the end of its blaster taking on a red hue as it charged another shot. Once more, a crosshairs appeared in its sights and it tilted its arm up a few degrees in order to lock the cannon onto its prey's head.

Before it could get the chance, however, a welcome surprise for the Manhattan Clan arrived in the form of Goliath veering towards the threat on Brooklyn's tail. He intercepted the robot gargoyle by grabbing him with both arms and forcing him towards the tower closest to their position. The artificial being was given no time to avoid impact and Goliath's strength made it crash into the wall. Arcs of electricity from broken circuits danced across its body, enough of a sign for the gargoyle to let go, an orange fireball lighting up part of the castle just after he did so. Its appearance was followed by a small rain of scrap and wires that fell uselessly to the grounds below, but Xanatos was unfazed by its destruction, having expected at least one of his robots to fall during the skirmish.

Goliath glided over to Brooklyn and held out his arms, his eyes moving down to Lexington's unmoving form. "Give him to me," he said with an urgent tone.

Brooklyn obliged his leader and dropped the olive gargoyle right into Goliath's arms, their leader easily able to shoulder the weight given his greater size and strength. In moments, the raven-haired gargoyle was by Broadway's side, using one hand to lift and brush away the rubble that had fallen over onto the unconscious blue male. Laying Lexington down beside his rookery brother, Goliath took one look around before rushing back into the fray. He took off in hot pursuit of the remaining four robots, his face marked by a deadly serious expression.

While Brooklyn headed for one of the support columns under the castle in order to climb back up and rejoin the battle, Hudson and Bronx came charging out of one of the towers around the rim of the castle, the former with a disgruntled look on his face. "What's all the noise?"

As if to answer his question, one of the metallic gargoyles went in for another pass and fired off a handful of shots at the two. The blasts made them cry out in alarm and leap to the sides, their new enemy passing them by and heading back in the direction of the main conflict. But just as it cleared the edge of the tower that housed the gargoyles it attacked, Bronx leapt after it and clamped down on its steel tail. Apparently, as well-built as they were, the artificial gargoyles were not meant to take on a lot of extra weight in that area, for the one that the beast had attached himself to had begun to drop like a rock. While the robot crashed to the ground, Bronx landed without any ill effect, still holding onto the thing's tail. The machine brought itself back to its feet and fired a laser at the beast that was harassing it, but the gargoyle "dog" was too quick, hopping swiftly to the left. More shots only resulted in Bronx swiftly outmaneuvering each one, keeping its attention focused while Hudson drew his battle dagger.

With a primal roar and his eyes glowing brightly, the veteran warrior jumped off of the walls, his blade poised high in both hands with its tip pointed down at the mechanical gargoyle. The robot looked up too late to properly react, for the last thing it saw before its sensors were fried was Hudson's snarling visage and the dagger tearing down the center of its visor. In one clean motion, the gray-haired gargoyle had sunk the blade through the top of its head and pulled down, cutting the machine in half straight down to the center of its torso. Sparks and bolts crackled noisily from its wound, leaving it a non-functional pile of metal. Hudson flipped his weapon back around so that he was wielding it more like a sword, looking down at Bronx with his still luminous eyes.

"Never a dull moment is there, boy?" He said with a grim tone, beating feet along with his companion to aid his former lieutenant now leader.

Meanwhile, at the ground floor of the Eyrie Building, Verité, Elisa and Mog had just arrived in front of the building, all of them piling out of her car and running towards the entrance. The Moogle waved his shield arm in front of himself and was quickly but sequentially surrounded by eight translucent six-sided crystals. Literally one second after the last one popped into being, they all disappeared and Mog along with them! Verité was about to call out for the Moogle when he suddenly saw the same shapes form around him and cause him to blink out of sight in short order as well. To his amusement, he realized that he had only been rendered invisible and figured that it must have been the same for the shopkeeper.

Though she had been concerned, Elisa discovered that Verité's voice could still reach her, although it was distorted into a soft echo for whatever reason. Once the teen explained what was going on, they made haste into the building. It must have made for quite a strange scene for the security guard that was stationed there to see only one woman running in, yet three sets of shoes were heard clapping against the floor. He sat up in his seat as Elisa came running up to his desk, flipping out her badge and claiming she was there on "police business". She had not bothered to stop when she did so, and while the guard stood up at attention, the detective and her invisible allies made their way to the elevator.

Once inside, Mog cast a simple curative magic over himself and Verité, small sparkles of green light circling around their forms before spreading along their torsos. Not only did this heal up the minor scrapes they still had from their battle with Lett, but it also dispelled their invisibility. Each of the three stood at the ready inside the lift, weapons poised and eyes on the doors. None of them knew what to expect and with everything that had happened up to that point, it was hard to say what would be awaiting them once they reached the top. For all they knew, the ashen gargoyle was waiting for them with another legion of Heartless.

This gave the teen pause for thought. They had to be ready for anything, but just because they were on another's turf did not mean they could not take advantage of the terrain. After all, two of them knew the layout decently enough just from scouting around the place, so it was possible that they could get the drop on Lett. But then there was the issue of knowing whether or not he was privy to all the twists and turns that the corridors had in store for those that walked them. Splitting up was still a good plan of action, but he was uncertain how well the other two could handle things by themselves. He would just have to hope for the best.

"Mog, Elisa," the young Master said lowly, just enough for them to pick up on, "I want the two of you to get off on the second-to-last floor and work your way up to the battlements from there. I'll go straight to the top and keep any company up there busy while you get to a better vantage. If things go south, don't hesitate to do what you feel is necessary."

Elisa slipped a fresh clip into her handgun and nodded to the boy. "Alright, but be careful. We don't want a repeat performance of the river fight."

"I could've handled those Heartless myself," Verité fired back with a grin, which faded into a thin line shortly after, "but Lett was something else. Sure, we gave him a good thrashing near the end there, but he didn't seem seriously hurt. Not to mention he did pull a few fast ones on us at a couple points."

Mog's grip on his spear tightened at the memory of the pale gargoyle easily avoiding or deflecting some of their attacks. "It's like he said, though. For whatever reason, he's not allowed to just get rid of you, and so he can't fight you at his best. Dodging or blocking bullets and teleporting certainly aren't amateur moves, though. I'm surprised we hit him as many times as we did."

True, it did feel like Lett had allowed them some free shots. But why put up with the embarrassment of being bowled over by a freak avalanche instead of just wearing them down and eventually taking out the others one by one? Was it really because he could not use his full strength and risked killing Verité if he did? Those explosive fireballs he had utilized as well were hardly beginner's spells, as far as the Master could tell. Summoning Heartless by the hundreds that obeyed his directions without question by merely snapping his fingers or clapping his hands was indicative of immense control over darkness. If the gargoyle had wanted to, he probably could have put up a much better fight. And yet the fact that he did not was what bothered Verité.

"Man, I had no idea what sort of crazy plot I'd be dragged into when I had to leave my home," he muttered to no one in particular, though the smiles of his two friends helped to lift his spirits some, "Makes me glad that I don't have to bear it all alone, though. Thanks for sticking with me, you two."

Mog scratched at one of his cheeks with his shield hand, chuckling softly. "Hey, it's no big deal. I'm curious to see where this all goes, myself. And if whatever's going on is as big as it seems to be, then you're gonna need all the help you can get."

"He's right," Elisa added, her eyes wandering to the indicator for the floors, "Remember that we've got your back. We're almost there, though, so let's get ready."

The other two bobbed their heads and kept a watch on the doors, expecting their foe to greet them one way or another.

In the skies above the building, though, Lett was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Xanatos was watching Goliath lazily weaving his way around the laser fire of one of his robotic duplicates. Even as the robot closed the distance, the clan leader still evaded its shots with relative ease, his eyes closely observing the pattern of his pursuer. When it was close to point-blank firing range, Goliath suddenly pushed out his wings and did a backflip in the air, letting gravity drop him down so that his knees hit the back of the machine while each of his hands grasped the edges of its metallic wings. The robot attempted to shake off its organic counterpart, but Goliath's raw strength kept it from doing so. Upon sighting another of the things from over his shoulder, the clan leader pulled hard on the wings, forcing the artificial gargoyle on a direct path towards its fellow creation.

Xanatos' eyes turned upwards as he watched Goliath's plan in action, his hands folded behind his back as he continued taking in the sights of the battle. After a few moments of getting the robot to turn around, the gargoyle's arms flexed as he balanced the direction of its flight. The other machine must have either not seen Goliath or was programmed to not fire upon its own kind, as it did nothing to dislodge the clan leader from its ally's back. The black-haired creature of the night gave his ride one last yank back before throwing himself from it, flipping back through the air as the two robots homed in one another. The resulting collision utterly decimated both machines, one notably large chunk of debris crashing into a tower and littering the area around it with a shower of metal and stone. The resulting downpour of scrap forced Xanatos and his small entourage to take cover, while Goliath landed atop one of the castle's spires to catch a small break.

The billionaire narrowed his eyes by a fraction of an inch, humming in disappointment at the state of his creations. "My Steel Clan isn't performing as well as I'd hoped," he said in a nonplussed tone.

"There's only one robot left," the female gargoyle remarked with a bit more urgency than the human.

With a momentary shrug and an open-handed gesture with both arms, Xanatos turned towards the door closest to them. "I think it's up to us, my dear."

While they made their way into Wyvern's interior, Broadway and Lexington started to regain consciousness. They slowly righted themselves and rubbed at their heads, a little bit confused at what was happening around them. They were not given too much time to think on it, for the last of the artificial gargoyles had decided to target them, unleashing a hail of lasers on them. The two were sent scrambling for cover and escaped through some of the outer passages while their foe flew by. Brooklyn finally appeared at the top of the damaged tower that Goliath had landed upon, running up to the side of his leader and peering out over the edge at the remaining robot.

The machine spotted the two it had attacked before along with the elderly warrior and the beast that had taken down one of its number. Its reticle zoomed in twice to get a better idea of the angle and distance it would take to fire a blast that would get them, its right arm's cannon moving forward and rising up by a hair. What it did not know, however, was that Goliath and Brooklyn had thrown themselves against a loose section of the tower's crown and were pushing against it with all their might in an effort to send it over the edge. Stones cracked and clattered about as the huge slab was pried further from its place, tilting more and more towards the ground below until it finally fell away, its presence marked by some bricks that had tumbled before it. These were not enough of a warning for the robot to avoid the real threat and it was struck down shortly after, its body weighed down under the massive piece of stone. The machine was crushed into the top of a walkway by the broken crown, soon sending yet more stone and metal flying as it exploded from the sheer force of the impact.

Brooklyn shoved a fist in the air and let out a joyous laugh. "We won, dude!"

"'Dude'?" Goliath asked curiously, having never heard such a word before.

But a voice that was familiar to both of them interrupted their triumph, the shifting of a heavy weapon registering in their ears. "You haven't won anything, fools!"

For a moment, the world seemed to stop in its tracks for Goliath. His angel of the night, with her pale blue skin, crimson red hair and eyes, white cloth top and dress and all the gold jewelry that came with it, was leveling a rocket launcher on her shoulder, the sight over her right eye. Next to her was Xanatos, sporting a sleek black rifle and watching on as she aimed the barrel. She held the weapon high, pointing it towards the two clan members on the tower, her finger slowly squeezing over the trigger. With a click, the barrel of the launcher lit up with the fire of a rocket, the projectile roaring towards the two gargoyles. While the pair attempted to jump away, they were no quick enough to avoid the shot as it struck the parapets near them. The blast sent both of them flying, Brooklyn falling towards the other four members of the clan below and Goliath hurtling onto a lower walkway, debris pelting them both as they groaned from the force of their impact.

"What are you doing?!" Goliath cried out in shock.

At that moment, Verité burst out of the elevator doors, Abwehr in hand as he made a mad dash through the courtyard. Off to one side, he spotted Goliath hunched over on one of the upper walkways and a female gargoyle that he had never seen before keeping a rocket launcher trained on him. While he had no doubt that the clan leader could avoid the attack, it was still some pretty serious firepower, and if she was the second-in-command like he assumed, then he was no doubt appalled by this turn of events. Out of the corner of his other eye, he saw the rest of clan huddled close, apparently watching whatever was going on between Goliath and their lieutenant. Not far above them, he saw the brown-haired man in a black business suit that he had spotted on the first day with a laser rifle pointed at the five gargoyles. It appeared as though he had not spotted the young Master yet, however, so Verité decided that the best course of action was to go to him.

With his Keyblade clutched tightly, the teen rushed at the stone wall and kicked off of the ground, jumping high into the air and landing on the nearest walkway. The clap of his shoes managed to grab Xanatos' attention and the man turned to acknowledge him, his weapon still aimed at the gargoyles below. A small smile formed on his face as he realized who had suddenly dropped in for company, the businessman straightening his posture a little bit but making no moves to turn the rifle. After all, a tall structure separated the two of them and prevented him from getting a good angle.

"Good to see that you're a man of your word, Verité," he said smoothly, his expression shifting to one that was more neutral, "Except for leaving your weapon out of this. But then, I imagine you're not terribly happy to see me."

Verité slowly began to walk closer, the tip of his weapon pointed towards the ground behind him to show that he would not attack so long as he was not pressed. "After learning about your 'theft', among other things, you're right to believe that. Are my parents safe?"

"I can assure you that no harm has come to them and that they were safely escorted home," Xanatos replied smoothly.

The Master's shoulders relaxed a little bit at that, though his grip remained solid, eyes moving down to meet those of the other five gargoyles. "And what's going on here?"

"Let them play out their little drama," Xanatos remarked, tilting his head in the direction of Goliath and the female, "You might learn a thing or two about your friends."

The boy growled under his breath, but made no effort to resist as he closed the distance, though he stopped in the doorway of the tower, which was only feet from the other man. It was there that he got a good look at the female gargoyle, and while she regarded him with a cold glance, she said nothing before turning back to the male in front of her. The sight of her weapon lingered over her eye, a deep frown creasing her lips and brow.

"Goliath, you're a fool," she said in tone that was somewhere between disappointed and disapproving, but her face could not betray the sad smile that slowly crept across it as she moved the reticle away and pointed the barrel down ever so slightly, "But then, you always were, weren't you? If only you'd taken the rest of our clan away from the castle that night. The plan was perfect!"

Her leader's eyes narrowed at her words. "Plan?"

"It would have succeeded!"

"What plan?"

"I made a bargain with the Captain. I was to get us all out of the castle so that the Vikings could sack it."

"What!?"

Rather than the furious bellow he would have expected out of Goliath, Verité instead heard that one word come out as hardly more than a loud and pained whisper. Not that he could blame him. After all the hardship that the gargoyles had gone through, this was yet another shock for them all. The young man felt his grip on Abwehr's handle tighten so much that his battle-worn gloves started to tear further, the weapon shaking in his hands as he tried to reign in his building disgust. There had to be more to it than that, and as much as it was already causing his blood to boil, he had to find out.

"It would have worked," the female almost yelled, "and after the humans were gone, we would have had the castle all to ourselves!" From there, her tone became more accusatory and venomous. "But you ruined it. You had to protect the **humans**. You made us stay at the castle when we should have been with you. When the Vikings attacked, the Captain said he'd protect us. But I didn't trust him. I've stayed alive because I don't trust _anyone_!"

The big question on everyone's mind, barring Xanatos as he had probably heard all this before, was brought to the table by Goliath. "But why did you do it?"

The way those words came out, along with the closed eyes and tightened fists thrown against his hips, showed how much this was hurting him. This was a bigger betrayal than being used by Xanatos, worse than finding out the Captain had been responsible for the sabotage of Wyvern's defenses during the raid, and even more treacherous than the stone spell that the Magus had cast over him and his friends out of vengeance. The one that Goliath had chosen to be his mate, to bear his children, and to spend the rest of his life with was the one who had led his clan to ruin and near annihilation. Their stone fragments from their shattered bodies were on her hands.

"You can ask me that...after how they treated us!?" Her voice was filled with fury, incredulous at how her mate failed to understand why she did what she did. "They had to pay! All humanity has to pay for what they did to our kind!"

Rather than snap back at her, Goliath calmly chose his next words after some deliberation. "There is good and evil in all of us, human and gargoyle alike. You should know that more than anyone." His expression intense and his eyes somber, the clan leader kept on with his small speech as he came around to his point. "Don't you see?" He asked her as his left arm slowly rose up, one claw pointing at her. "None of this would have happened if it weren't for **you**."

"Don't say that!" She snapped back at him, her eyes shut tight as she tried to deny the blame. But it was true, no matter how vehemently she claimed otherwise. "Goliath, this is your last chance. Humanity is a poison that must be purged from this planet! Together, you and I could create a new world for our kind." She slowly began to walk towards him, her rocket launcher no longer directly pointing at him but more so at his feet as she drew closer. "You trusted me once. You loved me once. We have found each other again after a thousand years of solitude. Does that mean nothing to you?"

Goliath turned away from her, his eyes sealing themselves shut. Tears formed under them and slowly began to drip down, streaking down his cheeks at a snail's pace when his eyes opened once more. As terrible as the things she had done were, he could not disagree with her completely. Humans had taken so much from him and his clan that it was impossible not to feel some resentment towards them. He had loved her dearly and trusted her with his life more than anyone else, enough that he had wanted her to be the mother of their children. Of course seeing her again after believing she had been dead all that time meant something to him.

But she had changed too much from the woman he once knew. While she had had misgivings with humans before, she had not been overly vocal about it in the past. She bore all the discrimination for her mate's sake and had believed they would lead a happy life. The gargoyle in front of him now was but a shadow of those days, her joy replaced with bitterness and her desire for humanity's destruction out in the open. Revenge had blinded her, and while a part of Goliath wanted nothing more than to return her to how she was before, he had to deal with the sad truth that it just would not happen. So he said not a word in response to her question, not because their reunion meant nothing, but because it marked the death of his dream of living out his days with her at his side once more.

Verité was not sure how much longer he could stand there listening to them. While it appeared that the female gargoyle did regret some of her past actions, it was apparent that she levied more than an adequate amount of blame on humanity. She showed hatred instead of guilt, and she expected the one she once loved to go down the same path as her. Goliath's quiet refusal to answer her, however, made it abundantly clear that he would have none of it. He did not have to wait long to get a response out of her.

"Very well then," she said with barely a hint of reluctance, her eyes flashing a deep and seething red all over, "If you are not my ally, then you are my enemy."

Once more bringing the rocket launcher's sight to her eye, she pulled the trigger and another screaming projectile took flight. Goliath dodged out of the way and made to rush her, but the rocket struck the tower behind him, the blast forcing him to the ground. Stone pieces crumbled over his body as he lay there, slowly bringing himself to roll onto his back. Though her visage was obscured by the dust from the explosion, his former mate's eyes glowed clearly through the haze. Slowly, she stepped out of the clouds and cocked her launcher, an expression of utter hatred marring her otherwise beautiful features.

"I have a name too, Goliath," she gloated with a venomous undertone, "The humans gave it to me long ago." She knelt closer to her ex-lover and pressed the barrel of her weapon right up against the middle of his chest. "I am **Demona**. Goodbye, _**Goliath**_."

But before she could pull the trigger, before Verité or Goliath could react, Elisa came charging out of the other tower and threw herself into Demona. The impact caused them both to fall to the ground, though the gargoyle's weapon tilted up high just as she managed to fire it off. Careening wildly away from its original target, the rocket flew upwards and struck the tower Elisa had come from right underneath the peak. As rubble came crashing down from above, Xanatos made to get to cover like he had during the battle between the gargoyles and his robots. But a stray brick smacked him right at the base of the neck, causing him to cry out and crumple to the ground before losing consciousness, his rifle falling out of his grip and sliding across the ground. Verité ground his teeth and let out a huff as he moved over and grabbed the man by his shoulders, dragging him out of the way of the wreckage before anything worse happened.

When the entirety of the tower's crown came crashing down towards both Elisa and Demona, the teen made a mental note to stop thinking about how situations could get more complicated than they already were. Goliath had since recovered and was now standing tall, though he was frozen by the sight of the massive chunk of his home falling towards the one he once loved and the valuable new friend he had made. No one reacted quickly enough to avoid what came next. The tower's platform smashed into the middle of the walkway and tore it apart, sending both Demona and Elisa into a fall that was littered with its fragments. The latter's hands slipped away from a section that she had grabbed onto only moments before, while the former was pelted by rock and mortar as she tried to right herself in the air. Try as Demona might, however, she tumbled on down and yelled in rage as she watched her former mate take hold of Elisa's hands and reel her into his arms.

Verité ran to the edge of the castle walls and peered down over it just as Goliath made his way back to safety. With a gasp, he saw the same dark portal that the pale gargoyle and the mysterious figure on Voluntas used open up below Demona. Lett's head and arms were seen emerging from its surface, his hands coming around the female's waist and drawing her gently inside. He must have seen the young Master spying on them, however, because his eyes seemed to turn up towards Verité and his lips formed into a smug grin as he slipped back into the gateway's depths along with Demona. The portal closed up once they had disappeared entirely and right as Goliath himself came rushing over to check for signs of his ex-lieutenant and lover. The boy said nothing, only getting up once more and moving over to Xanatos' prone form.

While she may have betrayed him, the potential death of Demona, as far as he knew, was devastating for Goliath. He let out a cross between a roar and a scream, but whether it was one or the other, it conveyed his anguish. At that moment, Xanatos began to stir and opened his eyes, though he was given no time to get to his feet before the righteously enraged Goliath grabbed him by the collar of his suit and brought him up as high as he could. The tycoon soon found himself dangling over the edge of his building, but he wisely made no effort to try and wriggle free of the gargoyle's grip.

"She wanted me to destroy humanity," Goliath snarled at him, claws digging into his clothes as he moved Xanatos out another few inches, "I think I'll start with **you**!"

But rather than beg for his life or try to bargain his way out of the situation, the man merely smirked back at him. "Go ahead. Without me, you'd still be gathering moss."

Verité had to give a little credit to Xanatos for that. The guy may have come off as an amoral and ruthless trickster, but he still had his dignity, and the boy could think of few villainous figures in any media that could pull that off well. Not only that, but given the story that Goliath had related to the boy about their revival, Xanatos may well have been right about the gargoyles still being cursed if he had not come along. And despite everything that had happened so far, Verité could find no real reason to put the man through anything more than a fair and unbiased trial. Xanatos had tried to kill his friends, mostly indirectly, but everybody was alive in the end. And with enough evidence to put him behind bars for receiving stolen property, among a handful of other charges, there was no motivation to go the extra mile with him.

Elisa was the one who stepped up to try and talk him out of it. "No, Goliath! Don't do this."

"Give me one good reason not to drop him," he growled lowly, turned to look at her while still holding Xanatos out as far as he could.

The detective cast him a sympathetic look and shook her head. "Because if you do, you're the same as Demona."

"She's right, lad," Hudson spoke, coming up behind Elisa with a grim and serious expression, "Is that what you want?"

Verité kept quiet, but turned his eyes upon Goliath all the same. He folded his bottom lip just under his top teeth and lowered his brow, gently shaking his head from side to side, hoping that the gargoyle would pick up on that. And with three people to help convince him, Goliath lowered his head and let out a mixture of a sigh and a growl.

"No," he answered solemnly, flinging Xanatos back near the foot of the tower.

During the next few hours, several things happened. Xanatos was arrested for his involvement in the theft and destruction of Cyberbiotics property, though with as much influence as he had and the amount of money he no doubt sported, it was hard to say how a court would handle his sentence. Before the cops had arrived, the young Master had grilled the older man about Lett. Unfortunately, Xanatos told him nothing beyond what he already suspected, which was that the gargoyle certainly was not from this world and was in league with at least one other wielder of darkness.

Mog met up with Verité and told him that the reason he and Elisa were held up as long as they were had been due to Heartless that Lett had no doubt left for them, as the gargoyle himself had not been present. Because he thought it urgent that the detective get to his side in time, the Moogle had elected to deal with the crowd of darklings. Following that, he voiced his complaints about pulling an all-nighter being bad for his sleep schedule and soon left to return to his shop to get some well-deserved rest. Verité figured that he would have to wait a while before grabbing some more supplies.

Verité then called his family and told them that he would be back soon enough. He actually smiled when he heard his mother give him a hard time for staying up the entire evening again, telling her there were more pressing concerns. While that would have normally been considered backtalk, she let up on him and expressed her relief that he was safe for the time being. Getting quick word in for his father, the teen told him that they needed to have a serious discussion later on. He figured that his old man knew what it would be about, as a warm chuckle was the only response he got.

As he watched the police cruiser that held Xanatos drive off into the distance, Verité overheard Goliath ask Hudson whether he believed Demona was still alive. The elder of the two shrugged and said that if she was, they would find out soon enough. He was tempted to tell them what he saw, but dawn was only minutes away, and he did not want to cause them to worry moments before their stone sleep.

Moments later, as the clan was climbing to their positions on the highest of Castle Wyvern's towers, Goliath and Elisa shared a wonderful view of the sun creeping over the horizon. After a few words passed between the two of them, the gargoyles solidified and became the same dull grey as the structure they stood upon. Now that it was just the two humans, they returned to the ground floor and decided to stop for just one more chat before they went their separate ways.

"So what's next for you?" the detective asked the teen.

Verité pocketed his hands and let out a sigh. "Well, much as I'd love to stick around, I really want to go out there and find Viscus. I can't take everyone with me, both out of practicality and for their own safety, but because they'll be here, I'll come back to visit every once in a while. I'm sure he's doing the same, wondering where I am."

"Then I hope you find him," Elisa said with a smile, reaching out with one hand, "And thanks for the help with everything that's happened."

Returning her expression, the young Master took her hand in his own and gave it a good firm shake. "Thank you, Elisa, not just for the well wishes, but for the help you gave me as well. I hope you and Goliath continue to work together, and tell him I appreciate what he's done as well."

From there, the woman climbed into her car and drove away, no doubt back to her precinct to debrief on Xanatos' arrest before heading home. The boy fought off the urge to just lay down, which was especially difficult when he could not just simply jump or glide across the rooftops. But thankfully, he found his way to the shelter, where he found his parents waiting for him outside the entrance. Not a word was exchanged between them as Verité was led up to their quarter, the teen crawling over the stretch of the couch and grabbing at one of the cushions, eyes shutting faster than his lagging brain could keep up with. His mother placed a blanket over his body up to his shoulders, a smile crossing her face as she heard snores begin to pick up moments later.

**-Another Journey-**

When Verité finally came to, he gave a yawn that beat out the one that he had experienced after waking in Central Park. Outside the window of the unit that his family was staying in, the sun's ray was piercing the clouds from the east. Had he hardly slept at all or had he really been asleep for almost an entire day? Reaching into his pocket to grab at his phone, he found that it was not there. Instead, it was laying on the nightstand near his parents' bed, plugged in and recharging. Pushing off the blanket and rubbing his eyes, he went over to check the display on the smartphone and saw that another day had indeed passed him by while he had slumbered. A small paper note had been left next to it, which informed the boy that his parents had gone down to get breakfast.

After washing up in the shared bathroom and throwing on a new set of duds that were similar the ones that he had thrown out the last time he was here, Verité joined the others for a meal. He sat in relative silence for the most part, only occasionally acknowledging greetings and giving short answers to questions posed. When finished, the three Captos returned to their room to discuss what their youngest member had wanted to bring up before.

Verité had expected his mother to forbid him from taking off with the Gummi ship, but she surprised him by showing support instead. His father was on board as well and commented on how it just did not feel complete without Viscus around. With their blessing, they divulged the location of the craft, which was called Palisades Interstate Park, atop one of the cliffs that overlooked the Hudson River, carefully camouflaged by the tree cover. Giving them each a hug and a kiss, Verité accepted some money to grab a cab ride to the park. Before that, he headed back to Mog's one more time to fill up his item pouch and a new armband that the Moogle claimed would help boost his fortitude a bit more.

After all was said and done, he eventually managed to locate the Gummi ship after searching for it for a good hour or so. The paint job certainly had not helped and he thought about maybe changing it when he next got the chance. Slowly climbing into the access door, he shut it behind him before moving over to the control panel, hands whipping across the buttons and dials in a blur as he prepped the engines and weapon systems. Less than five minutes later, after all the exits had been sealed and the pressure adjusted to a good constant, Verité was strapped in and ready to go. Pulling up on the steering handles, the ship began to ascend into the air, clearing the tops of the trees and rising up to the clouds within moments. He kept it up until the blue hue of the sky slowly gave way to the blackness of space, one of his hands moving away from the wheel for a moment to engage a few switches and press two fingers down on a rectangular red button. The Gummi ship loomed forward and soon the dots of light that made up the stars around him stretched into lines.

"I'll find you, Vic," the boy swore to himself, his gloves gripping the steering firmly as he leaned forward into the controls, "and whatever's going on with these darkness users, we'll get to the bottom of it. Just hang in there until we see each other again."

Over the past few days, Verité had made new friends and enemies and found a world where his people can settle after the tragedy that befell Voluntas. He had learned new ways to apply his mastery of the Keyblade and gained greater proficiency in handling its potential power. Who knew what tomorrow would hold for him? All he knew was that if he wanted to find out, he would have to head straight towards it.

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**Post-Story Notes: **First and foremost, I'd like to apologize to my followers for taking so long to put out this chapter. At least one of them is well aware that I have been rather busy with summer courses and thus have had less time to work on this story than I'd like. That said, I felt that the readers deserved an extra-long entry, and considering that the prologue primarily focused on Viscus, it seemed appropriate that Verité should get his own extended "episode". I'd also looked over my previous fight scenes and was a little disappointed in their length, so I set about reading numerous examples of what works for that kind of thing. If my style seems familiar to any authors out there who might be reading, then please don't accuse me of taking it wholesale. If anything, blame me for taking much of the dialogue from the original Gargoyles script verbatim.

Moving on to the bigger picture, as we all know, the original story of a Disney production can only include so many details from its source when it's applied to Kingdom Hearts. Due to the possibility of potential worlds that I have planned getting Jossed by the upcoming and long-awaited Kingdom Hearts III, I'm rather tempted to label this story as an Alternate Universe, but I'll hold off on that for now. That said, I'd like to clarify that I had no chapters planned for things like Tangled, Frozen, or Big Hero 6. The next world, which will be featured in Chapter 4A, is a world that has already been covered by the series proper. However, in that particular game, the events of that world, like a few others, were said to be repeating over and over as if stuck in a dream. It all had to start somewhere, right?

One last note before I close, I realize that even without this section, this is the longest chapter so far in the story. Future ones will not be of this length, except for maybe the climax and the conclusion of a few worlds as well as the overall plot. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading 3B, and I'll see you all again when 4A hits the web, whenever that will be.

For those curious about Verité's ringtone, follow this link: watch?v=5zN4Zz1GjVc


	8. 4A: Faith, Denial, and Doubt

**Chapter 4, Side A: Faith, Denial, and Doubt**

Viscus felt that he had lucked out when the charm that Julius gave him delivered him to a spot that was not filled with water. On top of that, he had changed from his striped hyena form and returned to being a human once more, though with a markedly different style of dress. His mantle had become a houppelande with wide sleeves that narrowed around the wrists, the bulk of the robe a deep blue with a silver fur rim around the folds from his neck to just below the knees. Reaching back, he noticed that it also sported a hood with the same sort of surface and lining as the rest of his cloak. When he crossed his arms, the garment took on a bell shape, and with a little exploratory poking, he found that he was also wearing a monochrome cote. The "under-tunic" was wholly silver, with some splashes of lighter and darker shades that wound around its surface in seemingly random horizontal patterns. The teen's sweatpants had become black trousers, and the tightness he felt around his legs despite the relative breathing room they gave resulted in the personally unpleasant realization that he was wearing form-fitting hose. His shoes were now a snug pair of black buckled boots, making him at least a little thankful that he no longer had to worry about potentially tripping over laces. Tucked away under his cote was the pendant that Julius had given him, the small number displayed within its depths having decreased to two.

To his surprise, he had ended up in a dreary graveyard that sat at the edge of what seemed to be a bustling, if rustic town. The air was chilly, indicated by the visible fog that formed from the boy's breath, meaning that the region was either experiencing a cold snap or was in the middle of winter, though there was no sign of frost on the ground to verify the latter consideration. The drab beige, brown, grey and red buildings were primarily composed of stone and bricks, with the vast majority having steeply slanted roofs, no doubt to keep rain and snow runoff from weighing them down and to minimize leaking. In the distance appeared to be a massive cathedral with high-reaching twin bell towers and an imposing front with doors that stood just as tall, if not taller than the roofs of the buildings around it. It looked to be the greatest structure that stood out in the area, so Viscus concluded that it must have been of particular importance.

With that as good a place to start looking as any, the teen was just about to walk in that direction when he picked up a soft noise in his ears. With a moment to listen, Viscus discovered it to be a gentle, melodic humming that was coming from somewhere behind him. Looking back near the rear of the graveyard, he spotted a small figure dressed in a white robe that looked to be covering heavier clothing, no doubt because of the cold. He was unable to make out anything more because of the hood that was drawn over the person's head. The tone that came from the person's humming seemed to indicate that they were a prepubescent boy, as did the relative build that Viscus could make out by looking him over. The child's head was bowed and his hands were clasped together as though he were offering a prayer to the tombstone before him. Had he not noticed the Keybearer's entrance because he was so wrapped up in his task?

Before the teen could speak out, however, the boy stood up and bowed to the grave before turning around and looking more than a little surprised at Viscus just standing there. "Oh! I was not aware there was another visiting the cemetery."

But Viscus was the one who received the bigger shock. The face of the boy was eerily similar to that of his disappeared brother's, as was his newly revealed jet-black hair and shimmering golden eyes. But unlike the sibling he had once known, this child's flesh was almost as pale as bone, though such was only evident in his face, for the rest of his body was wrapped in what Viscus could now tell was a white and gold clerical robe that, from the shape of it, no doubt had warm garments underneath to compensate for the weather just as he had believed. The kid's hands were covered by brown leather gloves and his feet by a pair of black buckled boots that were not too different from Viscus'. Even so, with all this before him, the Keyblade warrior could not help but choke out the word pricking at the front of his mind as he looked upon this mysterious individual.

"Lux?"

The child blinked for a moment and touched a finger to his chin. "'Light'? Oh, you must be referring to Lux Dei, the 'Light of God'. Certainly an interesting euphemism to use when trying to avoid saying His name in vain. Pray tell, sir, why does my appearance evoke such a strong reaction from you?"

At that moment, it was Viscus' turn to do a double take. His emotions had taken hold of him when he had gazed upon the boy's visage, but it was clear that he was not who the world-traveling Master had thought he was. Of course his brother would no longer be a child at this point; he would already be a couple years into adulthood were he still around. But still, the uncanny resemblance had shaken the teen rather deeply, so much so that he found it hard to maintain eye contact without his thoughts drifting back to that assumption. Part of him wanted to deny that this boy was not his brother, but that was a small portion of his feelings, and the rational side of his mind held out against this outlandish claim. Taking a moment to draw in a breath, Viscus calmly returned his features to a more neutral state so that he could better compose himself.

"I'm sorry, it's just that you resemble someone I once knew many years ago," he explained lowly, just enough for the child to hear, "My older brother, who was four years my senior. It has been more than a decade since the last time we were together. He disappeared one night while he was taking care of me and I never saw him again. I doubt he ran away, so I've come to conclude that he…probably died sometime after he went missing. I was not attempting to avoid using the name of the Lord in vain; Lux was his name. I suppose it may seem silly that a child your age reminds me of my elder sibling, but you look so much like how I remember him."

The youth opened his mouth in some astonishment and made the sign of the Cross with his right hand over his chest. "I am deeply sorry for your loss, sir. It is truly saddening to hear of one's kin vanishing at such a tender age. I myself had lost my parents before I could even begin to form memories of them, and today I wished to visit their graves to pay my respects to them for bringing me into this world. But in his mercy, the Archdeacon of Notre Dame had me taken in and raised me under the eye of the church that I now dutifully serve.

"Ah, forgive me for not offering introductions previously," the child said with some embarrassment before flashing a bright smile to the older boy, "I am Lumi, an acolyte to the aforementioned Archdeacon and sometimes errand boy for the presiding judge of Paris, Monseigneur Claude Frollo. Might I have your name, sir?"

Viscus pursed his lips together thoughtfully, momentarily wondering if he should oblige before deciding to answer honestly, or at least as truthfully as he felt he could get away with being. "I am Viscus Leto, a wandering sword that fights against the reach of darkness so that it cannot claim the innocent hearts it relentlessly seeks out. This city is but the latest stop in my journey, and I must confess I sense shadows that hang about here."

"Oh, how admirable!" Lumi exclaimed with praise, causing the target of his flattery to redden in the face and humbly wring his hands together. "To think I was in the presence of one who crusades tirelessly against evil! Venerable warrior, though many in our fair city would be hesitant to say, corruption and deceit are rampant within Paris. The gypsies have been swindling, thieving, and performing all sorts of debauchery ever since they first came into our home, and despite our best efforts to purge them, we have made no significant progress in culling their vermin-like numbers. It has been ever so taxing for poor Judge Frollo, and the recent demon incursion has only made things worse."

The Keyblade warrior tucked his chin between the index and thumb of one hand and hummed quietly as he contemplated the child's words. Truth be told, he had heard of gypsies before, back when he had been attending school on Voluntas. They did not exactly have the best reputation throughout history and even in the modern day, but people were people. Sure, there were a number of bad apples, so to say, but a minority was not adequate to judge an ethnicity as a whole, and was that not the case with every race? A child of the church did not seem like the type to lie, though, and perhaps there was something to his words. Another point was the so-called demons, which Viscus believed to be the Heartless with very little doubt. Then again, maybe this was the sort of world where demons were actually real and not among the dark legions he had been facing. He had just come from a place where animals could talk and have grandiose ambitions like those of human beings, after all.

In any case, Viscus decided to press on a little bit into this intriguing investigation he had found himself starting up. "Is this judge in charge of the…purge, as you seem to call it?"

"Oh yes," Lumi replied with a firm nodding of the head. "Since a time more than twice the number of years following my birth, and perhaps even before that. Frollo is a righteous man of God, so much so that he took in a deformed child and raised him by his own hand. That boy, now grown into a man, is the one who rings the bells of Notre Dame, the great cathedral over yonder. And he has never forgotten the kindness that the judge has so mercifully bestowed upon him, shielding him from the horribly cruel masses that would torment him were he to walk out into the streets."

The teen hummed and crossed his arms, now more certain than before that the place he had seen before, this Notre Dame, was where he should head first. "Very well, I shall depart to meet with Judge Frollo so that I may better ascertain how I can best be of service in this city."

"You cannot!" the boy cried out, earning him a suspicious look that caused him to clear his throat before taking on a gentler tone. "Ah, forgive my outburst. What I mean is that he is not available at this time. Today is the Festival of Fools, and as a public official, he is obligated to attend and so would be terribly occupied if you were to try and see him now. But I am certain that he would gladly receive you once the event is done, especially if you are as virtuous a warrior as you claim."

Viscus found himself already growing a little weary of this and began to start walking in the direction of the cathedral. "Then I will go to this 'Festival of Fools' and see him once it is finished. I am also curious to see what sort of celebration something with that name entails."

Lumi gawked as the older boy kept his pace even as he spoke to the younger, a look of irritation crossing his features that Viscus could not notice due to his attention on the cathedral. Rather than attempt to stop the key bearer from progressing any further, the child let out an exasperated sigh and trotted for a few seconds to catch up to his new acquaintance.

The journey progressed in relative silence until they had passed near the river, where the din of a crowd began to fill their ears. Merry and humored cheers became louder as the two boys crossed into the square before the cathedral, which was nearly packed full by townspeople. Jovial singing came from a black-haired, beard-sporting harlequin dressed in yellow and purple attire, the crowd accompanying him. His accessories included a single gold earring, a purple face mask that matched his clothing, and a differently shaded purple hat with a yellow feather. He also wore black gloves that went up to his elbows and small purple shoes that curled in and were tipped with bells, just as his shawl also sported a pair. Along with him was a bright and colorful set of tents, a couple private seats, and a stage, which had several men upon it.

_This obviously must be the Festival of Fools_, Viscus thought to himself as he witnessed the events going on, _such a name is fitting for this garish display. Now, if I were an important figure such as a judge, I would be seated for this. And since almost everyone here is standing, that would mean Judge Frollo is right over…there._

The Master turned his eyes over to a tall wooden platform that indeed had a chair, which was occupied by an elderly looking man. He was slender with pale skin and grey hair, his face careworn, his brows thin and black, and his eyes accentuated by pale lavender circles. His clothing consisted of a black judge's robe that had broad cuffs, allowing Viscus to easily see the man's spindly hands, and a black hat with purple stripes that had a lengthy red flourish that went far down his back. The key bearer could make out a high white collar that poked above the top of the garment, indicative of a dress shirt underneath. On his right ring and index fingers he wore ruby and sapphire rings, respectively, while on his left index he sported an emerald ring. Judging from the scowl on his face, he was clearly unamused by the action taking place.

A much younger, though still clearly adult man stood by the person that Viscus had assumed to be Frollo. He was not exactly large and yet had a good bit of muscle on him, with navy blue eyes, blond hair that was medium in length, and a goatee that was a darker shade than what was on his head. He wore golden armor over what seemed to be blue garments underneath, complimented by a long blue cape that swept down to the back of his knees. At his left hip was a longsword kept in a plain brown sheath, its handle and pommel just as bright as his armor. He wore a pair of darker golden boots on his feet and brown leather gauntlets that went up about half the length of his forearms. Unlike the older gentleman, the soldier, Viscus assumed, was showing a soft smile as he watched the festival.

The teenaged foreigner moved a little closer to the younger male and leaned in to speak into his ear, having to go above a whisper due to the noise. "Is that Judge Frollo in the seat up there?"

"You have a discerning and sharp eye, friend," Lumi responded, nodding in the affirmative. "Indeed, that is my mentor on the seating platform. I see Captain Phoebus has been brought along to escort and guard him. Just as well, for who knows the sort of trickery the Gypsies could engage in while the crowd is mesmerized by their display?"

Viscus raised a brow at this information. "You mean the man in the armor?"

"Yes. Captain Phoebus had been sent off to fight in the wars some time ago, but his return has brought a rise in morale amongst the guard here. He is a skilled soldier, highly respected for both his abilities and his charisma. A natural leader and a virtuous heart, if I may say so."

The Master hummed and returned his gaze back to the festival itself. A slender young woman with dark tan skin, emerald green eyes, ruby red lips and long wavy black hair had made a flashy appearance on the stage. She wore a white top that was complimented by teal and gold bodice, a purple sarong and white petticoat. Her accessories included a pink ribbon that tied her hair back, a golden hoop earring in her left ear, a golden bangle on her left wrist, and a matching bracelet and anklet on her right hand and ankle, respectively. The harlequin from before had introduced her as Esmerelda, and the men in the crowd were quite taken with her as she began a sultry dance, not that Viscus could blame them. He had to admit that she was rather beautiful.

She had been called out to judge which of the rather unattractive men, at least in most peoples' opinions, would be crowned this festival's King of Fools. As Esmerelda passed by each of them, taking off their masks or costumes, she would either give them some small praise or remove them from the stage, sometimes into a convenient puddle of mud that caused no shortage of amusement from the crowd whenever someone landed in it. But when she came to the last man, she found that his face was real, eliciting a gasp from both her and the whole of the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, Viscus could see that Frollo was wearing a particularly infuriated expression at this revelation.

The man in question was hunchbacked, with large powerful arms, red hair and pale skin. His left green eye seemed to be in a permanent squint, while the right was more open and natural. He wore a green tunic and brown leggings along with a pair of leather shoes, rendering him rather simple in garb compared to the rest of the attendees.

The hunchback's face was fearful, perhaps due to the onlookers' discovery that his appearance was in fact genuine and not some elaborate use of makeup and costume. Viscus felt sorry for him being put on the spot like that, for he could see a gentleness in those eyes that a good number of the folks around him did not seem to share. While he understood the sort of society he had entered, this was getting to be a bit uncomfortable for him. Something had to be done to try to diffuse the tension.

Luckily, rather than put a halt to the festivities, the harlequin jumped in and put a grand smile on for the silent majority. "Ladies and gentlemen, don't panic," he announced with a happy air. "We asked for the ugliest face in Paris, and here he is! Quasimodo, the hunchback of Notre Dame!"

And indeed, with his encouragement, the singing began anew as Quasimodo was hoisted into the air and crowned the King of Fools. As the crowd chanted his name, Viscus decided to join in, relieved that even an unfortunate soul like the deformed man could receive praise. Lumi, however, did not appear pleased with that, though the key bearer could have cared less. Frollo's expression also did not improve, but rather deepened, if anything.

Then a tomato was thrown, its impact against Quasimodo's face bringing all the celebration to a screeching halt. Jeers came from guards on the side as more produce was thrown, which escalated into angry shouts from all sides as waves of food were chucked at the hunchback. Ropes lassoed the hapless man and brought him down upon a rotating platform to push his torment even further, the people gaining some sick satisfaction from his suffering. All the while, the tortured man was crying out to the presiding judge for aid, but he simply watched.

Viscus, though, shook himself out of the shock of what was going on and grit his teeth in anger. He barely made out the words of Phoebus asking to put a stop to the cruelty, but the response from Frollo, that a lesson was to be learned, was clear as day. While he appreciated that somebody cared for Quasimodo's wellbeing, it did nothing to calm the rising heat in the young man's head. He had to stop this senseless display before it became even worse.

Before he could, Esmerelda began to ascend the steps to the platform, drawing yet another horrified gasp from the people and causing all to go silent. Once at the top, she knelt down next to Quasimodo and appeared to be whispering to him, her face apologetic. Frollo rose from his seat and pointed dangerously at her, brows knitted and teeth showing.

"You! Gypsy girl!" he called to Esmerelda with indignant authority in his voice. "Get down at once!"

The addressee turned to regard him, her expression becoming a bit more neutral, perhaps to maintain an air of respect towards the judge. "Yes, your honor. Just as soon as I free this poor creature."

"I forbid it!" Frollo thundered, one arm flinging from one side to the other to emphasize his decree.

Esmerelda promptly drew a knife from within a hidden fold in her coat and flipped the blade around so that it pointed away from her. Quasimodo shut his eyes tightly, fearing the worst and prepared to feel the cold metal dig into him. To his simultaneous shock and relief, he instead felt his bindings fall away as the gypsy woman cut him loose.

Frollo was promptly offended by this blatant affront to his authority. "How dare you defy me!"

"You mistreat this poor boy the same way you mistreat my people," she retorted with deadly seriousness. "You speak of justice, yet you are cruel to those most in need of your help."

"Silence!"

"Justice!"

The elderly judge's teeth clenched as this tirade went on, one hand tightly grasping the edge of his platform. "Mark my words, gypsy. You will pay for this insolence."

"Then it would appear we've crowned the wrong fool," the woman said, prompting the rise of a brow from Frollo. "The only fool I see is you!"

To everyone's surprise, approximately a dozen creatures that sported four golden wings attached to bell-shaped glass bodies suddenly appeared above Quasimodo's platform. Their forms rested on blue stands that ended in points, two pale golden rings decorating this extension, while the tops had blue caps and a tear-shaped topper with three golden eyes arranged in a triangular fashion. On their chests was a black and red heart with a three-pointed extension below, which Viscus recognized immediately as the mark of an Emblem Heartless. Their shapes and the heavenly appearance of them compared to many of their number led to the young man wanting to refer to them as Angel Stars, making a mental note of the designation.

Frollo's face split into a large and disturbingly pleased grin. "It would seem that the agents of God disapprove of your actions. And for the lot of you that came to enjoy this wretched celebration in a drunken stupor, consider it justice that the Lord has sought fit to send His angels to quash this disgusting festival!"

The Heartless seemed to take up his words and descended upon the people, bright glows of pink and yellow emanating from their forms. The Master knew that could not be anything good and promptly summoned Richter to his hand, the Keyblade having changed its form to become more reminiscent of a one-handed battle hammer . Fortunately, nobody seemed to have noticed this and he took the opportunity to hurl his weapon at the nearest Angel Star, which had started to descend towards a hapless citizen. Just as its own aura reached a nearly blinding luminosity, the head of the mystic metal collided with its main body, causing it to break apart into black shards, a heart floating free from its dissipating remains. The other Angel Stars almost instantly halted their previous actions and turned their attention towards the young warrior, having now sensed the nature of his heart. Richter flew back into Viscus' hand, garnering startled looks from the people around him, except for Lumi. Though the teen was not watching him, the boy had an oddly pleased expression on his face.

Murmurs began to circulate through the crowd despite the danger still present, much to the annoyance of Viscus.

"That boy struck down an angel!"

"But was it an angel? Would they not be impervious to mortal weapons?"

"Who is to say that the hammer he used is natural?"

"Best we beg forgiveness from these beings, lest their wrath be upon us once more."

"Do not be fooled!" Viscus shouted, the remainder of the crowd turning to him as he pointed towards the Heartless with a tense expression. "These creatures take on seemingly innocent forms so that they may better catch you off guard and steal away your hearts. And with those captive, they shall make more of their kind to fill their unending legions of darkness." Viscus did not like to play theatrics too much, but he figured it would be better if the crowd were with him on this. "Yes, I am a hunter of your depraved lot, monsters. Come and face me so that I may render judgment."

To the side of his vision, he cast a look at Esmerelda and Quasimodo that beckoned them to run away, mostly because he did not want them dragged into this fight. Thankfully, they took the hint, with the now free hunchback fleeing towards the cathedral while the gypsy vanished in a puff of smoke. A quick glance on his part allowed Viscus to see that she had appeared in another spot, being helped away by the crowd as Frollo angrily ordered the guards to try and apprehend her. Lumi gave Viscus an apologetic look before heading off to go after the judge, who had taken to horseback to pursue his quarry. The scattering of the people following that little fiasco on the part of the soldiers allowed the warrior more than enough room to confront the Angel Stars, which were now converging on his position.

The key bearer leapt towards one and brought up his weapon, momentarily surprised when the creature used its wings to rather effectively block his strike. A low noise like the whistling of static silence sounded in his ear as he bounced away from the shock of impact, twisting his body in midair to narrowly avoid a ball of light that had come within inches of hitting him. A trio of the Angel Stars spun rapidly as their pink auras reached a brilliant intensity, small but powerful vortices forming beneath them. The funnels began to home in on Viscus just as another four Heartless that glowed yellow fired off three successive orbs of lightning each. A timely jump over the miniature tornadoes allowed him to avoid most of the enemy fire, deflecting those shots that managed to keep on him with Richter and sending them back towards his attackers.

To his relief, quite a few Angel Stars apparently had not been expecting that, the blasts knocking them off center and rendering them dazed. Viscus used the opportunity to rush forward and soar into the air from a spring in his step. Unable to block his Keyblade now that they were stunned, the first Heartless in his path was demolished by an overhead swing, releasing yet another heart to freedom. As he hit the ground, the boy thrust his free palm forward and summoned a sphere of deep purple energy around those Heartless that were still reeling. Three of them tumbled to the ground as gravity was multiplied around their forms, all in a line so that Viscus could set up another strike. In a blink, he made a slashing motion and was almost instantly on the far side of the third fallen foe, weapon out to his side like in a classic samurai flick. A moment later and the trio of Angel Hearts exploded into fragments, three more hearts freed from their prisons.

Another moment was all he needed to toss Richter like a boomerang once more towards another of the stunned creatures, satisfied as he watched it join its fallen brethren. Half of them down and half to go, Viscus brought his Keyblade in front of him to act as a makeshift barrier in case the remainder tried anything out of place. The half-dozen Angel Hearts formed something of a circle around him and once more took on pink and yellow light. Just as he made to dodge the oncoming whirlwinds, one of them fired its ball lightning in one gap away from the twisters. A quick flick towards two of them and a slide along the ground under the third allowed the young man to come up underneath the offender and hit it with a spinning strike, eliminating the Heartless.

This did, however, leave him open to the tornadoes he had just tried to get away from. Viscus let out a gasp as pain shot across his form and he was rendered momentarily helpless, picked up and then flung into the far wall of the cathedral. Fortunately, he was able to right his body and bound off the stone with his feet, catching another of the Angel Stars off guard and quite literally smashing his way straight through it.

As he came to land upon the ground, Viscus dismissed Richter and switched it out for his former mentor's Keyblade, Henker. The mystic weapon came between his hands in the form of a scythe as he aimed it like one would a firearm, taking into account each of the Heartless' positions. Viscus wanted this battle over as soon as possible, and to be honest, these creatures were a bit tougher than he had originally given credit. The moment he felt an urge in the back of his head, the teen focused on it and pulled it like a trigger, feeling the blade kick back like a rifle would upon being fired. From its tip, a salvo of black "bullets" outlined by white light erupted outwards, seeming to veer off on their own for a moment before they homed in on their targets. One by one, the Angel Stars brilliantly shattered, their wings unable to defend them from the armor-piercing darkness that shot through their bodies.

Viscus waited a little longer before causing his weapon to dissipate, having seen that no more Heartless were coming to attack him or crawl out of the shadows. With this respite, he took a moment to think about how he brought the battle to an end. Viscus knew that he had not meant to call upon darkness, but he had been taught that that was how it typically started. Of course, he had also been told that even the most well-meaning people had trouble keeping the shadows in their hearts at bay. The feeling before when he had launched his final attack had been teeming with anticipation had been the sort that one gets when impatiently wishing to be done with a task, along with a bit of anger from the events that had transpired prior to the Heartless' appearance. Negative emotions were easier to touch upon than positive ones, he reasoned, otherwise there would not be so many of the creatures. The young man concluded then that he had simply relaxed his emotional discipline in a moment that had proven rather convenient.

A cold wet droplet brought Viscus back from his reverie, followed by a slow patter that transitioned into a strong downpour. Before he became too drenched, the boy hurried to the entrance of Notre Dame and pushed against the large doors with both hands, causing the wooden frames to creak noisily as he forced them open. After making sure that no more rain could get in by shutting the way behind him, Viscus took a moment to look at his surroundings. Numerous massive archways spread out before him, both on the ground level and what appeared to be an open second floor. Two long parallel lines of candle stands, each holding three gently flickering lights, were arranged around a stretch of red carpet that went all the way to the rear of the building. The tile was black and white in the same manner as a chessboard's squares, and enormous stained glass windows tens of feet high and several across greeted him as he reached the end of the aisle. He did not understand the significance of the figures etched into them, nor why such a building of this size was erected, but it was a sight unlike any he had seen as far as architecture.

Not only that, but the space here let in a soft circle of light right in the center of the raised platform near the back of the cathedral. It was peaceful in a way that almost reminded Viscus of the camp grounds back on Voluntas, but with a silence broken only by the sound of rain against the glass windows. He found himself strolling over to the middle of the platform and sat down cross-legged, surprised that there was warmth in this space. Then again, if the sun had been shining onto this spot since the early morning, he could understand why.

The comfortable feeling was replaced by a sudden and rather vivid sense of uncertainty. Viscus was not entirely sure where it had come from, but as his eyes traveled around to search for anything out of the ordinary, the emotion spiked as his gaze landed on a peculiar figure. A short being that looked like something of a teddy bear, but with a more catlike face and ears longer than its entire head, had noticed him. Its fur was stark white in color and at the end of a particularly long, black antenna was an equally dark and prickly pompom. It wore a simple grey ascetic robe that was tied by a lighter tone sash and topped with a deeper shaded hood, with a small pair of midnight black chiropteran wings sticking out of the back. Its eyes were the same golden shade that he had seen in Lumi's, something that should have been immediately suspicious, but it did not occur to him to draw the comparison.

The being slowly made his way over to the platform from the side it was on, easily hopping up and over the edge, a feat Viscus found impressive given the revelation of its rather small stature. It stopped there, though, seeming to observe the young Master for any signs of hostility. Viscus made no move to summon either of his Keyblades, instead giving the strange creature his full notice. It folded its arms and hummed quietly, eyes turned down for a few moments before peering up at the teen once more.

"I doubt that you don't have at least a few questions," it said, its voice on the higher end of the masculine scale. "Allow me to answer two of them. My name is Kupari, and I am a Moogle, a being of supposedly magical origin, though the story depends on the type of Moogle and the world that it comes from."

Viscus blinked and turned his eyes away for a moment to process the information, then returned his gaze to his new acquaintance. "Well then, my name is— "

"I know who you are, Viscus Leto."

The teen bolted to his feet and called Richter into his left hand, his contemplative look having given way to a dangerous glare. Kupari simply stood there, not making any sudden movements of his own, nor did he appear surprised in the slightest by Viscus' reaction. "Are you the one who called the Heartless outside in the square?" the young man asked him with a threatening tone.

"No, though you already met the one who did when you came to this world," the Moogle answered cryptically. "That aside, I find your will to potentially attack me questionable."

The key bearer did not dare dismiss his weapon, but he hesitated when it came to shortening the distance between him and this odd person. That same doubt from before was in every fiber of his being now, as though Kupari were the source of it. Of all the creatures he had come across, Viscus could not believe one that looked so diminutive and soft was instilling such a feeling in him. But the Moogle was correct and soon, the youth dismissed his Keyblade, teeth clenched in frustration as he stared down his companion for the moment.

"You have only raised further questions with your words," Viscus remarked irritably.

A ghost of a smile graced Kupari's lips for but a moment before he returned to a more neutral expression. "And I have nothing but time to address them. However, I cannot guarantee that I can or will answer them all."

"Then answer me this," the teen said, taking a moment to word what he wanted to say. "If you know and are willing: Who was the man that attacked my world? Was the figure I met in the previous one related to him in some way? Further, are you somehow involved with them?"

The Moogle twitched his ears and folded his hands behind the small of his back, starting to slowly pace across the altar. "The answer to your first inquiry is that he is a Master of Darkness that goes by the simple moniker of Tyrannus. Second, Nuru, the lion that you met in the Pridelands, is indeed another of the number that makes up the bearer's alliance. And lastly, I share the same origin with them, but I would not count myself among them."

"What do you mean by that last response?"

"To best understand, we all are beings that have come to be known as the 'Reclaimed'. As for the details behind what exactly we are and where we come from, as well as what Tyrannus and his fellows seem to be after, that is a bit of a long story."

"And let me guess," Viscus proposed, an unhappy look crossing his face, "there are some parts of that story that you will leave out."

Kupari tilted his head back and forth, a few small cracks resounding in the air as he popped the sides of his neck. "Your doubt is well-founded. But even with the information that I omit, I would recommend taking a seat again. Explaining what I can will still require a significant amount of time."

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**Author's Note:** It's been quite some time since we last had a chapter show up. Life has gotten in the way in several respects, along with waxes and wanes in motivation. However, I did say that I would tell my followers if this story was to be discontinued, and I am happy to announce that it shall keep going.

Hunchback is something that seemed a bit daunting to me, especially when trying to compare my word output with previous chapters. Part of the reason I went for a shorter approach here is to experiment with how readers can handle the amount of text. I realize that even the least lengthy of my entries before this was half again as long, quite a bit for most people to take in one sitting. So, for now, expect more chapters of this size unless inspiration hits me.


	9. 4B: Center of Attention

**Chapter 4, Side ****B****: Center of Attention**

Verité had been treated to a rather rude awakening at the start of the day. Literally, he had been roused from his rest without so much of a warning due to the Gummi ship going ahead and initiating the self-landing feature that came with the autopilot. That little design aspect was something he had not known had even existed until he had checked the systems following his sudden jolt back to consciousness. The process had knocked him out of his chair and into a tangled mess of blanket and pillow, which had thankfully cushioned his fall onto the floor, though not enough to completely avoid injury. And that was when things went from annoying to problematic.

The next thing that Verité had discovered was that he had landed on the top of monumental skyscraper in the midst of a massive metropolitan area. Said city, from what he could discern of it from his vantage point, looked to house just about every climate that could support life. A rainforest borough, a desert region, an icy polar district, grasslands province, mountainous reaches, oceanic coast and the all too familiar everyday concrete jungle that made up so many settlements in the modern day. The fact that some such places were maintained without any significant changes and in spite of the clear clashing of elements hinted at technology beyond the caliber of any world he had seen so far, even though this was only the third such one if he included his home.

The third point, which came as more of a problem than the other two, was that the visuals of his craft loaded images of what were beings of distinct non-human origin with anthropomorphic qualities. One thing they all had in common, from what Verité could piece together, was that they were mammals. Canines, felines, rodents, ungulates, and more every which camera screen he observed, with conveniences and services for all manners of shape, size and species. Had he never known of Heartless, gargoyles and the sorts of creatures that Gulbrand and Julius had described to him in a few of their stories, this would have been an unbelievable sight. The teen could only imagine the magnitude of planning it must have taken for this place to become a reality.

And while it was quite incredible, at the same time, it was a dilemma. There were no humans in any of the camera feed he had examined. Verité came to the assumption that this was one of those worlds where humans did not exist, or if they had, they were long gone and probably forgotten. In either case, he could not simply walk out onto the street and expect no one to stop and gawk. He was no closer to learning how to make himself invisible with the magic afforded to him by his Keyblade, either, and even if he had been, surely people would have suspected foul play by bumping into something that they could not see.

Those considerations left the key bearer with only two options. The first path was leave the place, moving on to find another world. The reasons that could not work included it being early in the day, potential detection of the Gummi ship even if it were not, and that he had no idea for certain whether or not Viscus was here or had been here. The other possible choice was hiding in plain sight as he went about the city, using some disguise drudged up from whatever he had lying around. Verité could already imagine how that could go wrong in numerous ways. In the event that it did, however, he always kept in mind the golden standard of escape: hurry with Haste and leap with Low-G.

Perhaps the one saving grace he was able to find from his observations was that the people of this world, like the previous one, spoke the same language he did. With that in mind, he began to gather a few scraps of cloth that his mother had packed for him in case he needed to make some repairs. Using magic to perform patchwork knitting was not so difficult; it was making something convincing and not overly suspicious that was hard. Fortunately, it took him only an hour to produce something that resembled a tight-fitting version of the stereotypical cloak most folks wore when they did not want to be identified. It did not scream inconspicuous, but it would have to do if he did not want others to see him for what he was. Verité felt he could make up a convincing enough excuse to deter most questions, like having a condition that caused him discomfort when exposed to direct sunlight for too long. He grabbed a pair of shades for his eyes and slid on some gloves that completely covered his hands. The whole outfit made him feel like a survivor in a post-apocalyptic nuclear wasteland, since every inch of hair and flesh was completely hidden.

When he was all set, the warrior engaged the as-of-then also newly discovered cloaking device on the Gummi ship, making him want to bring along the manual Julius had left for him so he could find out what else he did not know about. He then considered that to be a bad idea, in case anyone did somehow manage to stop and frisk him for whatever he had. His cell phone and Munny pouch secure on his person, he looked around the rooftop for any discernable way down. As expected, there was a stairwell nearby and Verité stepped inside cautiously. When he picked up no sounds indicating other footfalls, he swiftly made his way down the many flights, stopping every so often to check up on whether others joined him. Luckily, no such occurrence passed and Verité made it to the ground floor without issue.

Stepping outside, he found that he had exited towards the rear of the building, close to what appeared to be an employee parking lot. Even more fortunately, the only people (animals? Animal people?) around were a fair distance from the door and just getting out of their cars to head over to the other side, where the main entrance probably was. Instead of following where they went, the young man took a back street path, one that eventually went out onto what looked to be a main road.

It was here that he experienced a mix of emotions. Some of them came from being so big compared to certain civilians that he literally had to watch his steps. Others stemmed from being so small when measured against the larger species that he had to pay attention to where they were going so he would not get knocked on his backside or worse. Despite his mindfulness, Verité still attracted quite a few wayward gazes, not that he expected anything less. A quick glance their way most often got people around him to buzz off, and those that did not turn their looks the other way were promptly ignored. It was uncomfortable, just as Verité had predicted, to be this standoffish to others around him, but he really could not afford becoming a spectacle. At least not before something decided to happen that would make things much more complicated.

"Hey!" A pig that looked like a produce vendor stormed out of a shop, chasing after a weasel with a large handbag before turning to notice a grey rabbit in a police uniform. "You, bunny!"

_Of course_, Verité thought to himself with a mental sigh of tired vexation.

A small bit of sympathy washed over him when he noticed the rabbit's cheerless expression, probably the result of a bad day. "Sir, if you have a grievance, you may contest recitation in traffic court," the apparently female cop replied in a bleak monotone.

"What are you talking about?!" the porcine victim shouted frantically. "My shop! It was just robbed!" He pointed after the weasel, who had put considerable distance between himself and the pair that were talking. "Look, he's getting away! Well, are you a cop or not?!"

Verité was both surprised and encouraged when the rabbit's face lit up, as though she had been waiting for that sort of pick-me-up her whole life. "Oh! Yes? Yes! Don't worry, sir, I got this!" With a spring in her step, the lapin officer began to pursue the criminal with vigor that rather impressed the disguised young man watching the spectacle. "Stop! Stop in the name of the law!"

Verité balled one of his gloved hands into a fist and drew in a sharp breath before letting it out with yet another heaving sigh. Twice now, he had become witness to a situation involving a female cop, though this one was quite a bit tamer than his initial encounter with Elisa. In fact, he technically had not even been dragged into this at all; he was merely a witness. He did not have to allow himself to get into another potential altercation. Surely, that would save him a lot of headaches.

But then, the last time he did get involved ended up bringing forth a conflict and a foe he had not expected. Lett had been an unsettling adversary, one that had intelligence, strength, and common sense. The pale gargoyle had given him no hints besides the fact that he was part of a group, one that included the mysterious attacker on Voluntas, and that for whatever reason, they needed the teenage key bearer alive. Who knew how many other members this phantom collective had at its disposal? One of them could be here, for all Verité knew, stirring up trouble behind the scenes. It was faintly possible that this occurrence he had witnessed was just a small and ultimately minor detail in whatever plan they had concocted. Then again, maybe this event was a distraction that the group needed and were counting on the boy to take the bait to keep him away from their actual designs. It was also wholly probable that this had absolutely nothing to do with them.

In the end, Verité's desire to help someone out, both from personal morality and his duty as a Master, won out over his other considerations. "Ah, screw it! Hey, miss officer, wait up!"

In less than five seconds, the teen was by the rabbit's side, keeping up with her both due to his natural speed from years of intense physical training and his comparatively long legs. She would have been more surprised if this had been any ordinary situation, but Verité could tell that she was focused on apprehending the fugitive. The weasel that was keeping pace ahead of the two of them had turned around to make some sort of snide remark when he noticed that there was now a pair in pursuit of him instead of a lone bunny. Scampering through a crowded plaza, the thief almost ran into a cop car that was attended by a rhino, who had braked just in time to be puzzled at what was unfolding. Recovering from his near-hit, the mustelid slipped under the vehicle and taunted his pursuers. "Catch me if you can!"

Unperturbed, the rabbit jumped over the top of the cruiser and slid down the windshield, hardly missing a beat and keeping up the momentum of her run. "I got dibs!" she shouted to the large mammal as he stepped out of his car, the disguised human wheeling around him to keep pace and catch back up with his impromptu partner. "Officer Hopps, I am in pursuit!"

_Officer Hopps, huh?_ Verité's mind commented. _That's pretty silly, but also cute_.

The weasel came to a tiny district named "Little Rodentia" that was fenced off from the rest of the plaza, halting a moment to analyze his predicament. In a daring show of split-second thinking, he tossed the bag high over the wall and used his slender form to squeeze through the miniscule entrance into the other side, easily and expectantly catching his package. Officer Hopps leaned into a sideways ground slide that allowed her to pass beyond the hole much more quickly, and Verité cautiously leapt over the fence, making sure he did not hit any diminutive civilians in his landing. The rhino that they had seen only moments ago finally caught up to them, but due to his size and girth, was unable to pass safely beyond the border of the district.

"Hey! Meter maid!" he called to Hopps, his attention also focused on the strangely garbed person following her. "And you, vigilante! Wait for the real cops!"

The weasel had not been expecting them to follow so easily and quickly, taking to the tops of small apartment buildings and sprinting across them as though they were stepping stones. Hopps followed after him, but was forced to double back when said structures started to tip over. She lodged herself between one complex that was falling and another that was still upright, pressing her powerful feet against the wall and shoving with considerable effort. Fortunately, the once collapsing buildings were pushed back into their proper positions, preventing a significant disaster for the scrambling little citizens running about in the chaos.

The weasel, seeing that the officer and the guy in the cloak were right back on his tail, frantically started stepping into the busy streets, narrowly avoiding the comparatively shoe-sized cars under him. After a few moments, he planted his feet into a pair and used them as improvised roller skates. Verité almost winced at that, concerned for the safety of the drivers inside. The crook even took a moment to spin himself around and taunt the pair with a sneer and derisive laughter. If this was the sort of criminal who cared nothing for reckless endangerment of innocent lives, then the teen knew he had to stop him before things got way out of hand.

"You! Freeze!" Hopps yelled after her quarry, who only laughed in response as he made his getaway and lost her after ducking behind another street.

The rabbit jumped up to the top of a small raised bridge to locate the thief, but was forced to dodge an oncoming magnet rail. To her surprise, the weasel was standing on top of it, looking smug as ever as he sped off down the track. "Bon voyage-y, flatfoot!" he jeered.

However, he was not given too much time to celebrate, as pedestrian transport tubes that were clearly modeled after hamster mazes posed a problem for him. The mustelid crook's lithe and flexible form enabled him to duck under it, but was given no time to relax as several more successive and increasingly complicated networks popped up before him. With cartoon physics at work, he bent and twisted his body to avoid getting an unpleasant stop on his journey, all the while keeping a death grip on the goods he had taken. At last, it seemed as though he was in the clear after that gauntlet of miniature terror, and he once more adopted a satisfied grin.

It was then that he noticed the much larger pursuer standing with both legs straddling the railway, staring down at him through his dark specs. "What the?! Are you some kinda crazy idiot?! Get outta the way!" the weasel cried out.

"Stop!" Verité proclaimed, pointing one finger at the tram and the person riding atop it.

A translucent clock face enveloped the human's targets, its hands rapidly spinning about the numbers until they completely halted. The moment they did, aquamarine points shot through the weasel and the train, causing them to become literally frozen in time. As useful as the Stop family of spells was, Verité knew that it took a lot of arcane energy to cast and that it was on a strict limit as far as duration was concerned. Thus, he wasted no time in running forward, being sure to come up to the side of the bridge so that he did not get impacted when the chronological flow resumed for his victim. Winding back a fist, the human struck the weasel square in the jaw with as much force as he could muster that he was certain would not outright kill the smaller guy. Nothing happened at first, so he took a moment to pop an ether into his mouth and allow the cool essence to replenish his almost depleted magic reserves.

When the end of the spell came, the magnet train resumed its course as though time had not just been stopped. The criminal, on the other hand, went flying backward, losing his grip on the bag in the process. Sent sprawling so that he landed just behind a doughnut diner while the goods were in front of it, clutching his head as he moaned in pain. Upon seeing Officer Hopps making her way to finally apprehend him, he snarled and put both of his feet on the tire-sized model of a doughnut that served as the sign of the place he had ended up near.

"Have a doughnut, coppa!" the weasel shouted as he kicked the thing with all his might, sending it soaring through the air.

Seeing where it was headed, coincidentally towards a group of three shrews that had just stepped out of a clothing department store, Officer Hopps made a mad dash to intercept the rogue fake pastry before it could deal serious damage. One of them had not noticed the flying doughnut like her friends had and let out a shrill scream as she feared for her life, covering her arms over her head and expecting the end. To her and Verité's relief, Hopps had managed to catch it only inches above the shrew's head, everyone breathing out a respite sigh. The human rolled his eyes as he heard the rabbit compliment the latter's hair, who responded appreciatively. Noticing that the weasel had gained enough feeling to stand up and nab his prize once more, Verité cleared his throat loudly, catching the cop's attention and letting her see for herself.

And before the crook could run off again, Hopps slammed the doughnut over him, effectively binding his arms and legs as he was pushed through the hole. It must have been quite the shock for the weasel, since he soon after passed out with a dazed look on his face. Verité walked up next to her, feeling a bit conscious as he realized that she came up no higher than his knee, and it certainly did not help with the awkward look she was giving him. The enforcer herself must have noticed, as she changed her expression by smiling and scratching at her cheek out of nervousness.

"Sorry, it's just with the whole outfit making it so I can't see an inch of you," she started, trailing off before she could continue with the uncomfortable remarks. She reached out a paw to show that she meant no hard feelings by what she said. "Uh, let's start over. I'm officer Judy Hopps, ZPD. Thanks for helping me catch this guy."

Verité chuckled and nodded to Judy, kneeling down and taking her hand in his own much larger and glove-covered one to give it a light shake. "I'm Verité Capto," he returned, his voice somewhat muffled by the cloth over his mouth, "and it's no trouble at all. Although, you looked like you could have handled this yourself, if we're being honest. I decided to help because I felt that it was the right thing to do, and I had some suspicion that this thief may be involved with this group I've run afoul of."

"Oh, that does sound really serious," the lapin murmured just barely enough for him to hear. She proceeded to push the weasel over so that the doughnut could be rolled, bringing it to the edge of Little Rodentia opposite of where they had first come in. The human assisted her further by first grabbing the duffle bag and then boosting the officer and criminal over the wall before hopping it himself. Judy continued to spin her arrest along while she contemplated Verité's words. "Do you think they have anything to do with the missing mammal cases that have kept the force busy for the past two weeks now? I'm sure you've heard the news, but fourteen individuals have gone missing, all predators, and nobody has a clue where to start looking."

The human rubbed his chin through the cloak and hummed thoughtfully. "I can't say for certain, but I suppose it's possible. The last one of their number that I confronted, which happened in a city exceedingly distant from this one, was involved in some pretty shady dealings with a powerful and rather influential corporate figure. Unfortunately, the guy got away, but not before confirming that he wasn't working alone. In fact, it turned out that another similar individual, which had gotten into a quarrel with my best friend, was one of his peers. From what I can theorize, this organization's reach extends frighteningly far, so it wouldn't surprise me if they had one of their own working in the shadows around here."

"And would you say they're dangerous?" the bunny inquired further, a look of concern flashing through her eyes.

The young man nodded and grunted in affirmation. "From what I saw of the fight between my friend and the one man, as well as the experience I had with the other, I would honestly say that calling them dangerous may be an understatement. What makes it even worse is that I don't know exactly what they're trying to accomplish."

"You can't just go to the police on this one, can you?"

"I would have already done so if I thought this was something they could handle," Verité said softly, his disguise almost muting his words. "Anyway, should I stick around for anything they do to this guy you managed to nab? Witness testimony or something along those lines?"

"I'd appreciate that, it might make the chief give me a real chance at being a cop," Judy replied sincerely.

That caused the teen raise a brow, and while the rabbit would not have seen it, she certainly noticed him turning to her to better give his attention. "You mean, what that other cop back there said was true? You're a meter maid?"

"That's what I was assigned," she said with a sigh, a look of irritation crossing her features. "I do know why Bogo won't give me a chance, but it's not something I agree with. Nobody really takes me too seriously because I'm a bunny, while they're all much bigger animals."

Verité nodded and hummed in sympathy, looking ahead of him to see that they were finally coming out to what was clearly the precinct's police department. It was at least three stories high and stood away from other structures on the same block, being within a circular enclosure. The building itself was a sandy yellow in color with cool blue glass within various gaps, a stretch of verdant grass just visible over the top lip of the roof, many open flights of steps and raised pavement leading people to and from the impressive work of architecture on several sides. A private lot that most likely went underground as well could be seen off to one side, and if there was no bigger indicator that this was a place of law enforcement, then the golden letters that spelled out "police" just above the main entrance certainly gave it away.

"Maybe this will change things," Verité said after getting his visual fill. "Like I said before, I'm pretty sure you could've gotten this guy by yourself. I just happened to be there and felt like lending a, hmm, paw. If nothing else, I think you should be receiving a bit more credit than whatever they've given you, having seen what you're capable of."

"Thanks." The lapin gave him an appreciative smile, stopping the weasel in time to see that he had just regained consciousness. "Hey, mind helping me make a statement to the folks in there?"

The teenager felt a grin of amusement cross his lips at the request. "Making an entrance happens to be something I'm rather experienced with. What did you have in mind?"

"All I really need you to do is get the door to stay open and follow me inside," she explained, a proud smirk adorning her small muzzle, "but I'm going to roll our criminal on in, let him bounce against the front desk, and then shout out something like: 'I popped the weasel!'"

Verité started at Judy, and he was certain that even with his disguise, she could sense the deadpan expression he was giving her. "Uh, let's not go with that."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing's wrong with the setup itself," the teenager promptly pointed out, "but that punchline at the end is just…lame. Instead of trying to make some sort of not-really-that-clever pun, how about something that shows a little more personal pride? For example: 'Not bad for a bunny, huh?' I feel like that may get some more heads to turn than what you wanted to say, not to mention they may actually consider their initial impressions of you mistaken."

And so, after a few more minutes of deliberation, the two came to agree that what Verité believed Judy should say was for the best, while still keeping most of the original plan intact. Meanwhile, within the busy lobby of the police station, a comically overweight cheetah at the reception desk was speaking with a female civilian otter that was rather blatant in her distress. The desk man, who could be identified as "Clawhauser" from the name badge across his left breast, was being the paragon of patience and sympathy in his dealing with the anxious aquatic mammal. At the same time, he was mentally taxed, in part because this was not the first time this individual had come into the precinct.

After what was the umpteenth time getting the flustered female to listen to him, Clawhauser folded his hands together and put on the most neutral face he could, though that still showed some concern and light exasperation. "You're gonna have to be patient and wait in line just like everyone else, Mrs. Otterton, okay?" Though his tone was sincere enough, the words did not make a whole lot of sense due to the fact that Mrs. Otterton was the only person in line to the reception.

But before that point could be argued, the front door slammed open, held in place by a figure clad so completely in clothing that no hide or hair could be seen. Following that outburst came a weasel bound in what seemed to be a rather large doughnut, rolling across the floor like a loose coin with sturdy momentum. In no time, he was before the desk, the otter there having moved out of the way and watching him bump against the wood and wobble in a circle until he came to rest face-down against the tiled floor. Judy took it upon herself to jump and come to the side of the weasel just seconds after he settled into that position, putting her hands on her hips and holding her head up a little.

"Not bad for a bunny, huh?" she announced with enough volume to draw the looks of everyone in the room, including those that had been late to the first part or had not been paying attention.

"HOPPS!"

Verité, having entered the station and come to stand behind Judy shortly after she had hopped on inside, looked up towards the source of the bellowing voice. A large, stout cape buffalo in a uniform similar to Judy's stood at the top floor's balcony. The young man discerned from the gold stairs around his collar, multi-pouch belt, and badge across the left side of his chest that he was the police chief that Judy had mentioned before. The fact that everyone else had fallen dead silent at his shout was great evidence. Given the size of the guy and the sort of strength and bravery Verité had read his species capable of, it seemed a reasonable conclusion. He had raised his left arm and angrily pointed to his own left, a gesture that the key bearer interpreted as demanding Judy to see him in his office.

The young man would have let her go alone and was content to wait. Before he was allowed that chance, the person he assumed was Bogo shifted his attention onto the robed human. Verité caught him looking, the ungulate's expression becoming even more unamused upon examining the human. One of the large mammal's hands extended, pointing out the unusual individual before him and curling a finger towards himself. The warrior did not like that gesture, but given that he was in the presence of a figure of significant authority, he decided it would be wise to go where he was beckoned.

The other members of the station that were present gave a quizzical tilt of the head in Verité's direction, a few of them breaking away after a moment to look back up to their chief. A snort from the buffalo was enough to dissuade them from verbally forming any further questions, and with that, Judy made her way over to the elevator. The teenager elected to take the stairs, skipping one or two steps at a time as he bounded up, in part to waste as little of Bogo's time as possible. To Verité's amusement, he had outpaced the elevator and arrived at the top of the staircase a couple seconds before the indicator bell for the car rang out. Rolling his eyes at the display, the chief waited for the two of them to take the lead before he followed them into his office, making sure to shut the door behind him so that they could not be disturbed.

Once inside, the three individuals went to a seat, with Bogo settling down into his own while palming his face into his hands. He slowly brought them away and folded them in on top of his desk as he glared at the two in front of him. "Isn't this lovely?" the buffalo said with bitter sarcasm, "Hopps, you abandoned your post, incited a scurry, and recklessly endangered the lives of rodents. And you, mystery man, are guilty of the same crimes, except that in your case, we can replace the first charge with vigilantism, which is still illegal."

"I'm not the one who made the arrest," Verité replied, holding up his hands and shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalant gesture.

The buffalo turned his eyes to the human and regarded him with a fierce scowl. "Regardless, you do not have the authority to assist or act in place of law enforcement," Bogo shot back, his eyes like daggers. "I could excuse you if it happened that you have some sort of credentials that do qualify you. So I ask: do you?" When he was greeted with silence, the chief let out a labored sigh and pressed his hands flat against the wood of his desk. One of them reached over to the evidence that the weasel had attempted to make off with and unceremoniously plopped it in front of the pair he was reprimanding, a blatant fake smile crossing his snout while he unzipped it for them to see. "To be fair, the two of you did stop a master criminal…one that was making off with two dozen moldy onions!" The last couple of words were punctuated with a slam of one fist that made all the contents of his station rattle and move out of their careful placements.

"Mm," Judy grunted as she looked over what was inside, her expression forming doubt, "hate to disagree with you, sir, but those aren't onions. Those are a crocus variety called _mendicampum holicifius_, a Class C botanical. I grew up in a family where plant husbandry was kind of a thing— "

"Shut your tiny mouth now!" Bogo interrupted, not in the mood for a botany lecture.

Verité sat up straighter in his seat and braced both of his hands against the desk. "Now hold on. I'm not super familiar with codes and classes when it comes to the law, but I'm pretty sure she's talking about something that warrants at least a little concern. Why would a grocer have something that's listed as a controlled substance and why would he feel safe letting the cops retrieve it?"

"An interesting point, but not why we're here," the buffalo said dismissively, peering down dangerously at the one who had spoken up before turning back to Judy. "Your job is not to apprehend criminals, Hopps. It is to put tickets on parked cars that have violated meters, signs and other indicators."

The rabbit looked positively indignant at that, but at the same time held a helpless look in her eyes. "I don't want to be a meter maid, sir. I want to be a real cop."

"Do you think Mayor Lionheart asked me what I wanted when he assigned you to my precinct?" Bogo growled, seeming as though he was moments away from losing his temper. "Life isn't some cartoon musical where you sing a little song and all your insipid little dreams come true! Let it go, Hopps, and perhaps I won't fire you for all the trouble you've caused."

Trouble, however, had a way of catching up with Verité regardless of the company he was with. And at that moment, it chose to show itself as the same otter he had seen at the reception bursting through the office door. Behind her, the portly cheetah known as Clawhauser was catching his breath and leaning against the frame with one paw, his other clutching at his abdomen. Verité could sense yet another twist in his visit to this world about to commence, so he was taking it in stride a little better than Judy and her boss.

"Chief Bogo, please!" the female mustelid pleaded in a desperate tone, "Five minutes of your time, please!"

The buffalo shot an annoyed look towards Clawhauser, who shook his head and panted in response as he waved one hand. "I'm sorry, sir. I tried to stop her…but she's super slippery. Hah…I gotta go sit down."

Bogo sighed and allowed his previously angry face to melt away into one of sympathy. "Ma'am, as I've told you, we're doing everything we can."

"My husband has been missing for ten days," the otter said, pulling out a picture of herself along with another adult of her species and two young ones that the observing human discerned were probably their pups. "His name is Emmitt Otterton. He's a florist and we have two beautiful children. He would never just disappear like this!"

"Ma'am, our detectives are very busy…"

"Please!" Mrs. Otterton begged, her eyes filling with small tears, "There has to be somebody who can help find my Emmitt."

Verité felt his heart ache at the situation and the desperation in the small carnivore's voice. It reminded him, disturbingly so, of a day in his early years where Viscus and his folks had come to see his own. The distraught Leto family's older son, Lux, had gone missing the previous night and so they had called upon everyone they knew in the community to help them. The teen remembered how Mrs. Leto had that same pleading expression as the mammal before him now, and how she had begged him and his parents to let her know if they knew anything. Unfortunately, even after a few years of searching, Lux had never been found, and the efforts had been put to a rest after the events of the first Heartless invasion due to the damage done by the dark beings. It was not something that either he or Viscus talked about much at all, but just like the event that took the latter's parents, it was brought up every once in a while.

"I will find him," Judy said, standing up from her chair and breaking everyone out of their respective thoughts.

The human smiled with warmth under his disguise as Mrs. Otterton embraced the rabbit, profusely thanking her and handing off the photo so she could use it as a lead. Bogo did not look pleased in the slightest by Judy's decision, though he maintained enough of a professional air to ask the civilian to wait outside. The buffalo kept up a relatively neutral face until Mrs. Otterton stepped out and the door was shut behind her. From there, his expression became flat and disgruntled, his arms crossing as he glared down at his employee.

"You're fired," he stated to her with quiet, but firm finality.

If ever there was a time Verité thought a bunny could not look more indignant, then Judy in the present moment fit it best. "What? Why?"

"Insubordination!" Bogo barked, both his hands clenched into fists. "Now, I'm going to open this door and you're going to tell that otter that you're a former meter maid with delusions of grandeur who will not be taking the case! And as for you, vigilante," he spat out to Verité, the last word seeming to carry even more venom behind it, "Since the circumstances are still a bit muddled, consider yourself lucky that I'm letting you off with a warning. But, I had better not catch you trying to interfere with any more police work or I will have you arrested!"

The moment the chief opened the door, however, instead of seeing Mrs. Otterton, there was a short and quite formally dressed white sheep behind it, a look of excitement on their face. "I just heard Officer Hopps and her mysterious partner are taking the case," came the female voice which matched her size, barely any bigger than Judy herself.

"Assistant Mayor Bellwether?" the buffalo said, completely blindsided by this official's visit.

The sheep nodded and smiled brightly as she brought her hands together in a giddy fashion. "The mammal inclusion initiative is really starting to pay off," Bellwether stated, taking a moment to let out a small screech of excitement, "Mayor Lionheart is just going to be so jazzed! I've already sent him the message and everything!"

"Now, Miss Bellwether," Chief Bogo started, trying to get a hold on the situation, "This is a bit hasty, don't you think? And this…mysterious partner, as you called him, is technically a vigilante, and you know well that vigilantism is against the law."

The ovine woman danced in place when she received a response from her cell phone, seeming to ignore what the larger ungulate had said. "I had thought about that already, Chief, and the Mayor just gave the go ahead! So, no need to worry about getting arrested for helping out, Mr. Cloak! Oh, and Judy, remember that you've always got a friend at City Hall, so don't hesitate to stop by or give me a call if there's anything you need. Us little guys have to stick together, right?"

With that, Bellwether left them in peace, and from the looks of the outside area, the concerned Mrs. Otterton had departed some time ago as well. Judy was thrilled that she was finally being given the chance to act as a real cop and be involved in a big investigation. Despite all the obstacles that had gotten in her way, a break this big only came once in a lifetime, so she knew that now was the time to take it and run with it. The rabbit would show the rest of the force what she was capable of and that she was not to be underestimated for her size. She would teach them why she had graduated at the top of her class in the academy with flying colors.

Bogo was irritated that the world seemed to working against him when he was just trying to be reasonable with his job, though he realized his hands were tied and so was resigned to give her a chance. And if that was not enough, this stranger that Hopps had come in with was still a nearly complete enigma to him. To think that Bellwether had even gotten the Mayor to go ahead and suspend any charges against him and allow the mystery man to work with one of his officers. He could already feel a headache coming on that was only going to get worse by the end of the day.

Verité was the most confused, as he was not certain how someone could just pull strings to give him a free pass, not to mention that he had not even spoken up about getting involved. On the other hand, there were no other plausible leads to his own investigations, and given the undercover nature of his recently realized foes, they very well could have had a hand in the missing mammal case. Maybe they did not, or perhaps it was a trap designed to lure him closer to one of their members. In any case, he could not simply walk out on Judy.

"I will give the two of you forty-eight hours," Chief Bogo announced after heaving yet another exasperated sigh, "That's two days to find Emmitt Otterton. But, and this is a big but…if you strike out, the consequences are clear. You, Hopps, will turn in your badge and resign from the ZPD. And you, 'Mr. Cloak', will no longer have the protection of the Mayor's office for your crime fighting habits."

Judy and Verité shot one another a glance before turning their attention back to Bogo, each of them giving a resolute nod. "Deal."

"Splendid," the buffalo said in a tone that seemed a little too cheerful, "Clawhauser will give you the complete case file."

With that, the two left the office and proceeded back down towards the reception desk, where they found the cheetah tapping away merrily between his phone and his computer. When Judy came up to ask him for the file regarding Mr. Otterton, he complied and brought out what Verité could swear was the thinnest manila folder containing personal information he had ever seen. No wonder Bogo had appeared to be eager to hand over the case to them.

"Is this a joke?" the human asked indignantly, crossing his arms and tapping his foot.

Clawhauser peered over the contents of the folder and let out a small gasp. "Yikes! That is the smallest case file I've ever seen. Leads: none, witnesses: none, and since you're not in the system yet, Hopps, resources: none. I hope you didn't stake your career on cracking this one."

_Funny you should mention that_, Verité thought bitterly.

Judy sighed and poured over the contents for a moment. "Last known sighting," she said to herself as she gazed over Emmitt's picture. He was carrying what appeared to be a red object in his right hand and was dressed in business casual, walking through a relatively sparse street. She found it difficult to concentrate with the cheetah slurping from his soda bottle, though.

"What's that he's holding?" the human asked, pointing to the item in the otter's hand. "Can't really make it out." He tapped on what he was talking about and turned to face Judy. "Any relevance?"

The lapin hummed in thought before she snatched Clawhauser's bottle away, leaving him with a straw dangling from his muzzle while she held the glass container's top up against her eye and took another look at the photo. The way the glass had been cast allowed it to work as a makeshift magnifier, allowing her to better identify the thing that Verité had pointed out. "A pawpsicle? 'Get your pawpsicle'…" She then moved the bottle once more and spotted what appeared to be the tail of a red fox jutting out from a pair of khaki slacks, the hem of a light green shirt just barely sticking out from the edge of a lamp post and the corner of the photo.

"Yeah, because that," Clawhauser began for a moment, trailing off in confusion, "What does that mean?"

Judy stood up straight and swung one fist across her chest in a victory gesture. "It means that we have a lead! Come on, Verité, I know exactly who to ask first about our missing otter!"

"Alright! Way to go, Judy!" the teen praised, following the rabbit out of the building as she rushed towards her vehicle.

Already, things had turned out to be more exciting than Verité had initially suspected. Once again, he got to become part of an investigation, and they were off to a good start as far as making headway. He figured that they would have the case cracked easily enough within the limited time they had been given. If it turned out the dark figures were involved, then he would gain a lead of his own. If not, then at least he could say that he was doing a good deed for another world. Part of the young Master wondered if Viscus was experiencing anything like this in his own adventures.

He shook his head and smiled to himself. _Knowing him, I bet he's already gotten ahold of valuable information about what we're up against._

/\

\/

**Author's Note**: Sorry if it seemed like an abrupt ending, but I felt the interaction between Judy, Verité, and their potential lead could be explored more in-depth the next time we come back to this. As many of you noticed, this chapter had little in the way of action and was more dialogue heavy, mostly due to our protagonist coming in after a significant chunk of the original story has passed. You also probably caught on that Verité takes a little bit more of a backseat approach in handling some matters than Viscus does. It is true that in the previous world, he was less hesitant about using his abilities openly, but that was because he was forced to show his hand early on. Here, he has fired off a single spell that, most likely, only Judy has taken significant notice of. That being said, more action is to come in the Zootopia arc.

Next time on Cosmic Fracture, be ready for something a little different. I'm working on a chapter that will be released before 5A that still pertains to what is going on in the universe, and will attempt to get that up shortly before Viscus' next entry is done. That way, any readers can get a potential double feature to tide them over for 5B.


	10. 4Γ (Delta): Plans on Two Fronts

**Pre-Story Note**: Remember these guys? I'm sure a few of you do and have been wondering what they've been up to. Well, now you get to find out, and be sure to have read Chapter 1A to understand what exactly is going on! In addition, we also get a look into the other side of the conflict and what these shadowy figures have been doing since the prologue and Chapter 3 (A and B both). As a fair warning to those not particular about it, this is somewhat of a dialogue heavy chapter. Also, it will be shorter than the others, due to this being an in-between entry.

**Chapter 4, Side ****Γ****: Plans on Two Fronts**

Master Julius Veneficus sighed out of melancholy while he sat down to dinner with his daughter, Elea, and his nephew, Salvatore. The two teenagers each shot one another a concerned glance, but neither of them were eager to inquire about his depressing appearance. It was made all the more so when they considered that Julius had been much less animated than he normally was in their company. That was not to say they did not appreciate the praise he had given them lately, far from it. It was the fact that aside from those positive moments, a member of their family was letting something bring him down, as though obsessing over it. Julius seemed to have noticed their expressions, for his eyes turned up to take them in. But he too said nothing, returning his solemn focus down at himself. His movements in taking the food they had prepared was best described as mechanical, being efficient but without emotion. This was the pattern he had repeated over the past few days, and it had all started when Viscus Leto had arrived.

Apparently, from what Elea and her cousin understood, the young Master of comparable age to themselves had suddenly shown up unannounced, physically drained, emotionally fatigued, and seriously injured at their doorstep. They had figured as much that Julius would help him, but the shock that Viscus was basically an equal to their mentor-relative, and thought of each other as steadfast friends, was something they were still trying to get over. Then, they had been informed after Viscus' departure that he had delivered information that Julius needed time to digest. Now that they thought about it, it did seem pretty obvious that whatever their visitor had said would be having that effect. And they had that desire to know, but at the same time, they were intimidated by what they might learn. After all, what did Viscus say to make their family act miserable like this?

And what weighed on Elea and Sal's minds even more was the fact that an effective equal to their Master had appeared the way he did. When they had briefly seen him, the only evidence to his physical damage had been the torn-up clothing he had been wearing. And though he had been polite and humble, Viscus had shown a rather overt and seemingly terrible sadness in his eyes that Julius' daughter picked up on but did not mention aloud. Yes, he had been smiling and welcoming when introductions had been exchanged, yet Elea had been uncertain whether that demeanor had been wholly sincere. She had later mentioned it to her cousin while they had sparred alone, whose initial jealousy and coolness for their same-aged superior had diminished quite considerably since then. After all, for all they knew, Viscus had just been through one of the most traumatizing and/or heartrending events of his rather young life.

In that moment, the two of them felt as though they had to know now, regardless of how awkward it would look. Elea felt a little disappointed in herself, then, when Sal was the first to finally try and break the awkward silence in the room. "Uncle Julius, I must confess my concern at your recent behavior," the young man said in an even tone. When he received no response other than another visual acknowledgement that he was even there, the teen continued. "That is exactly what I am talking about. You've basically become mute during mealtime. You've displayed excessive tiredness and depression following the departure of Master Viscus. You've even begun to make mistakes, that we know you would never intentionally make, during the course of our training. Don't you think it might behoove you, as my uncle, as Elea's father, and as our own Master to trust us with whatever pains you? The light knows, you've been there for us when we most needed it."

There was a long stretch of silence in which neither the speaker nor the one his speech was directed to answered. Though she was as nervous as a college student giving a presentation to a class of hundreds of peers, Elea tried her hand at dispelling the heavy atmosphere. Unfortunately for those who knew her well, she was known for being a bit honest. "Sal makes good points, Dad, even if they are a bit flowery when he expresses them." A humph of mock offense came from her cousin, which she momentarily grinned at before returning to a serious face. "But, seriously, we are getting more than a little worried with how you're carrying yourself. It's so unlike you to be moping around the way you have been. Sure, you eat, sleep and give us helpful feedback when we spar…when you're there to give it, that is. But otherwise, you've just been empty."

"Elea is absolutely right," Sal supplied quickly, leaning forward in his seat and piercing his fork through his food to scratch at his plate. "And as I stated before, this sudden change in your mood came after Master Viscus left. You had said to us that you needed time to process what you had been related. So, I beg to ask: what did he say to you that so completely destabilized you? Because I swear upon my key and my honor as a knight that if it had been untoward in any way— "

Julius held up a hand to silence his nephew, who unflinchingly cut himself off at the gesture and made to relax his tense posture. Elea had been ready to admonish her cousin for speaking out against Viscus without any hard evidence, but Julius had effectively handled it. She understood very well why Sal was upset, though, and were it not for the positive impression Viscus had made on her when they first met, she knew she would likely be on the same level as her silver-haired relative.

A few moments passed, during which Julius only took a single swig of water. After setting his glass back down, his sunken expression regarded his family once more. "The cause for my fall into depression is indeed something Viscus had related to me. Understand, first, that it was certainly as difficult for him to say as it was for me to hear. He was well aware that even though that was the case, it was something that needed to be relayed, and for that, I am thankful for his honesty.

"You two recall my good friend, Gulbrand?" he asked of Elea and Sal, who nodded affirmatively to him. "As I said before, he was the one who showed Viscus and his friend Verité the way of the key bearer. For nearly eight years, he had trained those boys, and every so often, I was invited to see their progress. What I saw had been astounding, though I will not discredit you two for your own efforts, as you both have come quite a long way yourselves. The day that those young men became fellow Masters was no doubt one of the happiest in the whole of Gulbrand's life. He had watched Viscus and Verité grow from shell-shocked juveniles into practiced and disciplined knights, and the glow I saw in his eyes that day we agreed upon the bestowing of such a title was one I had rarely ever witnessed, even as his closest comrade. We believed that the home world of those two that Gulbrand had grown fond of would now be in capable hands.

"Alas, it was not meant to be." The way Julius trailed off caused concern for his family, who were about to inquire what he meant before he spoke up again. "Voluntas, the name of that world, had once before suffered an attack from a Master of Darkness that had taken many innocent lives. As recently as the past week, it once again found itself under assault from a shadowy key bearer, one that brought a far greater force of Heartless than the one that preceded them. Not only that, but the Dark Master was far beyond the level of skill of the one Gulbrand and I had fought several years ago. My dear friend, whom I have known for more than two decades, valiantly clashed with them to protect the planet he had come to love like his own original world. He...did not survive the encounter."

Elea and Sal, who had intently listened to every word, were now completely struck speechless by this revelation. They had always enjoyed the occasions that Gulbrand would take in visiting them, and they knew well how much he meant to Julius. He had told them that his friend had been there for the wedding of Elea's father and mother, as well as the one between Sal's own parents. Gulbrand had been present for their births as well, and had even suggested the girl's name out of respect for an old childhood friend of his from his home world. He had been a great storyteller when the two were younger, pulling tales from the days he and Julius were more active in their duty to the cosmos that made the children's eyes twinkle in both excitement and wonder. But now, he was gone, and the realization of the source of Julius' pain caused both Elea and Sal to feel heavy guilt from assuming he was just being mopey.

"I can see in your eyes what you are experiencing," the Master said somberly, a sad smile adorning his features, "but there is no need to apologize or beg forgiveness. You did not know and I was hesitant to say until now. But what I have to discuss is not done. Gulbrand did not die during his battle, but rather afterwards, where Viscus found him. The poor lad tried as best he could to help my friend, but Gulbrand knew his time was too short for any effort his former student made to have any meaningful effect. He invoked the forbidden Rite of Blood so that his own weapon and experience could pass on to his former apprentice, which burned what little life he had left due to the nature of the ritual. So, you see, Viscus has the key of Gulbrand as well as his own and all that comes with that ownership. Yes, I have lost the best friend I have ever known, but so have his former apprentices been robbed, right before their eyes, of the one who had helped uplift them from a traumatized childhood and made them strong.

"Thus, I do not blame Viscus for attempting to avenge Gulbrand at the first opportunity. Such a decision on his part was foolhardy, yet one that saved his life. I know not what the Dark Master has in store, but after Viscus was beaten, they deposited him here on this world of ours and presumably destroyed Voluntas afterward. Verité, the other young Master I have mentioned enough times by this point, most likely escaped with other refugees, for Viscus had told me they were just about to leave when they found Gulbrand."

Pausing to take a drink, Julius cleared his throat before his melancholic demeanor turned to one of deadly seriousness. "You two see now the gravity of the situation? This new Dark Master, more powerful than any we have ever faced, has begun a campaign of umbral envelopment across the stars, or so it seems. They know where we live and they are confident enough in their ability that they directly spared a warrior opposed to their cause and dropped him on a world where he could find allies, though for what reason I cannot comprehend. Given the nature of things, as well as my own past experience, I would venture a guess and say they are not alone in their endeavors. Even if this Dark Master is the strongest in all of the universe, causing the whole of the Realm of Light to fall to its opposite is an effort far beyond the scope of any single mind. I would also hazard a theory that while Viscus travels the worlds with the pendant I lent him, Verité has become aware of the calamity upon us and has taken steps to combat it as well. And while I would normally not suggest it, I am afraid that given the circumstances and potential for future events, I cannot keep you two from becoming caught up in it. Therefore, we too must take the necessary steps to prepare."

Elea rose from her chair, her fingers on both hands locking into each other, as though she were about to say a prayer. "Does this mean what I think it does, Dad?" she inquired hopefully.

"Yes, the time has come," the Master responded, his lips curling into a soft smile. "Both you and Salvatore have served as my apprentices for nearly as long as Viscus and Verité did under Gulbrand, and as I stated before, your prowess is nothing to scoff at. Tomorrow, I shall hold the Mark of Mastery for the both of you."

Roughly an hour after that conversation, Salvatore bid a good night to his cousin as she walked out of the driveway that connected his home to the lone road that ran through Tranquil Fields. For the first time in a while, he was actually genuinely happy about something. Yes, the news of Gulbrand's death was still a depressing matter to consider, as he had been fond of his uncle's friend, even if he was not particularly vocal about it. But to think that he could possibly become a Master tomorrow! Surely, that would be an event that would make her proud for once, or at the very least silence her negativity.

Readjusting the straps on his backpack for a moment, his hand turned the knob of the front door on his modest one-story home, the last traces of daylight having just been blotted out by the star-studded evening sky. Inside, he saw that his father, Luca, was sitting at the dinner table, nursing a cup of coffee while pouring over documents for his job. The man looked very much like an adult version of his son, marked by the appropriate tiny wrinkles and wearing that came with age. It was a typical sight to come home to after his training, though the man was usually a bit more tired than he appeared to be at the moment. Salvatore's presence was noticed by the adult, who flashed him a gentle smile and nodded in acknowledgement, something that helped the teenager cheer up a little more.

"Evening, Sal," he greeted courteously, motioning to an empty chair with the hand that held his steaming mug of plain black joe.

Salvatore took him up on the invitation and sat down next to the older male, sliding his pack off and placing it against the legs of the seat. "Evening, Dad. You seem to be a bit more cheerful and awake than usual. Any particular reason?"

"A very good reason, if I may say so," came the reply, followed by a quiet slurp of coffee. "These papers are actually forms that confirm my shift change, as well as the benefits I am to receive starting next week when I turn them over. I will be able to spend more time with you and Carmen, as well as better provide for us due to my promotion."

The teenager almost winced at that reply, but he did consider this a turn of events that was more good than dreadful. "Oh, well, that really is good news! Congratulations on that, Dad!" Sal said earnestly, before dropping his volume a moment later. "It will be great to see you around the house more. To be honest, though, I am not exactly elated with the prospect of spending more time with Mom."

"Sal, I know you and your mother have had your differences for some time now— "

"Differences?" the voice of the young man came out sharp and cold. "What sort of woman belittles the efforts and achievements of her own son, who is both a dedicated student and more physically fit than anyone in his grade, possibly his age category? Dad, you cannot possibly expect me to believe that she is doing this 'for my own good'. She has made it clear to me that she does not push my buttons so that I can work harder."

Luca sighed, having heard this argument what has felt like the hundredth time by this point. "Whether or not she means to do so doesn't really matter given the results. You've grown up into an intelligent and strong young man, but you have got to let this grudge of yours go."

"Tell her to do the same," Sal muttered just loud enough for his father to hear and catch the spite behind it. "Once again, congratulations on the upward movement, Dad. I will be headed to my room now to rest up for tomorrow. Good night."

The older male returned the last two words and went back to his forms, only briefly looking at his son as he stood up and walked out of the room. Sal turned out into the living room and headed down one of the hallways that connected to it. His home had never really needed to be very large, so there was only enough space for the kitchen, dining and living area, the master bedroom and bath, a guest bed and bath that was often taken by Elea whenever she decided to stay the night, and his own area for rest and hygiene. Some would have found the close quarters suffocating, but it was perfect for the teen, especially since he lived on the opposite side of the house from the woman he was not fond of.

Stepping into his bedroom, Sal let out a heavy breath and shut the door behind him, one hand reaching up to scratch at an itch in his hair. He looked over his simple room, with its small black bookshelf and tall mahogany dresser against one wall, a steel table for his lamp and computer along the other, and a double-sized bed near the third with a silver comforter that covered plain white sheets, two pillows propped on top of one another at the head. A few family photos were on display on the top of his shelves, while a spiral journal that he used to log his daily activities was left on top of his mattress.

Curiously, Sal noticed that it was open and facing down against the covers. The young man did not recall leaving it in such a way the last time he made use of it, which served to cause his blood to stir. Crossing over to his bed in what was just more than a couple of full strides, Sal gingerly slipped his fingers under the pages and lifted the journal so that its spine rested in his other palm. They felt unevenly creased and wrinkled, as though turned in haste and force. The teen reached for the tab that he used to go to the newest blank page so he did not have to scramble around to find it, but instead of neat and clean lines, he found a message. Scrawled in angular font that was both professional and easy to read, he discovered that it was more of a question, one that he had grown quite familiar with as far as dealing with a certain member of his family.

"'Why bother trying?'" Sal read aloud, letting his eyes drift shut and letting a puff of air escape from his nose.

It was not the first time that he had come across it. Whether in text or in speech, his mother posed the question to him more often than he would care to admit. His answer had always been asking her in turn if she have no faith at all in what he was capable of. She would then pull the life experience card and lecture him on how easy his life was compared to hers, that giving him hardship would get him to "open his eyes" about the world. Sal was willing to admit that, as far as status and worldly wisdom were concerned, he was not in the best position to argue. This was especially so when he considered that he had no real answer to this question.

At least, not before now. The results of the next day's Mark of Mastery had the potential to change everything about Sal's life. The thought of being named an equal to his uncle was an exciting enough prospect. Becoming a Master could grant him the privilege of traveling to other worlds and gaining real knowledge and experience. He could be the best or only chance that those in distress could afford, and given the dire news Julius had delivered earlier, that took precedence. It was an opportunity to make a difference.

_Wait, there it is, _he thought, _the answer I have been looking for_.

With a smile that just barely curled the edges of his lips, Sal took a bold pen and wrote out a response to the message underneath. "Because I can and will make a difference," he muttered in time with his scribbling down of each word.

Satisfied, he turned the page and began marking down the events of the day. Due to the number of revelations and happenings, and not wanting to forget a single detail that seemed important, he ended up using three whole pages of his journal. Now extra wary of the contents being poured over before he was ready to discuss them, he put the notebook in the topmost drawer of his computer desk and locked it up, slipping the key under the bottom of the blinds of the window next to his bed. Sal turned off the lights and shrugged off his dirtied clothes, making certain to get a fresh shirt and undergarments before sliding under the covers. Tomorrow was a big day, and he needed to be as prepared as possible.

**-Meanwhile-**

"So, what exactly did you tell that boy to get him to pause long enough for the usurper to carry out his assassination?" came the voice of a gargoyle, one that Verité and others had come to know as Lett.

The eerily human-like creature was sitting with his legs crossed and his tail out behind him, wings furled in against his shoulders. The ground on which he sat was dark and smooth, but seemed amorphous to the naked eye due to how much light it absorbed. The sky around his location was a deep blue-violet, the sort that one would see in the first moments of evening coming on when the last of the sun's rays had finally gone out. It was peppered with celestial bodies that appeared much like the ground on which he sat, immense spires of black jutting through their centers that seemed to attach them to the landmass beneath his feet. Across from him is the similarly-colored lion that had introduced itself to Viscus as Nuru, laying comfortably on his belly and all four paws. He flashed Lett a knowing grin and narrowed his yellow eyes in a deeply contented expression. The memory of the situation he had been asked about was still rather fresh I his mind.

"I told him that whatever action he took was all part of a plan," the feline replied simply, "which isn't entirely accurate. That said, he would have to throw us for a truly confounding loop in order to go off the rails of the Progenitor's designs. An improbable, but not impossible feat."

Lett nodded solemnly, resting one of his cheeks upon a fisted hand. "Verité Capto has proven to be troublesome. Had we fought alone, I surely would have humbled him in little time. But he had allies, and together, they made of mockery of me despite the fact that I wasn't giving it my all. My operations in Manhattan have fallen behind schedule due to their meddling." Black fluid trickled from his palm as his claws dug into it out of frustration. "I am aware that this sort of interference changes little to nothing in the long run, but the mortification he dealt me still makes me seethe."

"I envy you for having a challenge," Nuru remarked, gaining a bemused expression from the comrade across from him, "True, the Leto boy did make short work of the forces I sent to harass him, including the prince's cohorts after I gave them a bit of pep. However, his emotions were easy to manipulate, and that allowed my contribution to our goal to fall into place well enough. He fights the darkness, and yet I could feel a deep-seated negativity within him, one that could be harnessed if we were to push all the right buttons."

"That isn't what the Progenitor wants."

The two of them turned to the masked figure in the white cloak that Viscus had only recently discovered went by the moniker of "Tyrannus". The pair that had been speaking fell silent, their eyes fixed on the shrouded individual. One hand came up to remove the plain ivory mask covering his face, revealing a likeness that could be described as young and androgynous, the pale skin framing bestial yellow eyes and making them all the more apparent. His hair was short and silvery, interspersed with snowy and coal-like strands that gave his locks a variety of shades in certain spots. Perhaps the other two would have commented on his sudden appearance had Tyrannus not been wearing an unsettling scowl. A shudder ran through Lett as he realized that such a fierce expression was centered on him.

"And you were not supposed to engage with the other key bearer," the cloaked man said in a dark tone, eyes narrowing at the gargoyle, "even with his discovery of your presence, you should have stayed out of sight. Now, instead of reining in the whole of the Manhattan Clan to our side, you have only brought an ex-member into the fold and got Xanatos arrested. To be fair, I'm not sure he was buying our sales pitch to begin with."

The humanoid creature being criticized grit his teeth in irritation. "It wasn't as though he was alone. He had help, and I would have surely had him if they hadn't— "

"Quit your bellyaching!" Tyrannus cut in, aggravation etched across his features. "Allow me to iterate: you were not supposed to fight the Capto child. Your orders were simple: convince or coerce Xanatos and the Manhattan Clan to our agenda, stay out of sight of the key bearer, and if the boy did, somehow find out what was going on, reveal nothing." The man took a moment to run a hand through his hair, his form trembling as he attempted to curtail his anger. "Again, what have you accomplished? A single gargoyle that's now no longer a part of that clan is on our side, Xanatos is in police custody, hundreds of Heartless that could have been used elsewhere were utterly decimated, some by your own hand, and you suffered a despicable debacle of a defeat at the hands of a sixteen-year-old upstart and his 'little friends'! I don't care that you were holding back, you knew what you had to do. For the love of this umbral realm in which we find ourselves, please tell me you kept your mouth shut about our plans."

Lett himself was shaking, both out of fury for being tongue-lashed in such a brutally honest fashion and out of fear for upsetting the one being that was his superior and a direct subordinate to the one they called the Progenitor. "All I said was that I was not alone, and that was merely confirmation for the boy's theories. He concluded himself that you and I were somehow connected. But I related nothing more to him, and I swear upon the second chance at life I have been granted that I am telling the truth."

The human among them stared at the gargoyle for an uncomfortable length of time, gazing into his eyes to detect any falsehoods in that claim. Nuru was amused by their exchange, but he knew to keep quiet, lest he incur Tyrannus' wrath himself. The only one that could get away with making the man well and truly mad and suffer no consequence was their supreme leader, though the lion had never seen nor heard of such an event happening. Besides, he had already been lectured by Tyrannus for taking a couple liberties with his approach, including a bit of interference in the gargoyle's affairs. It just so happened that what came from his efforts was close enough to the original goal that the man saw no real reason to go off on him like he was doing with Lett.

After the unsettling silence passed for a few moments, Tyrannus let out an exasperated breath. "Very well, I will take your word for it. Do follow your instructions better next time so that we don't have to have this conversation again. Understood?"

"Without question, sir," Lett replied in an obedient and regretful tone, trying his best to put out the last of his simmering anger from the heated exchange.

The human nodded in finality. "Good. As far as other efforts are concerned, Viscus arrived in La Cité des Cloches not too long ago, and reports suggest Verité has landed in Zootopia, though this has yet to be confirmed. Regardless, I've sent word to our operatives in these regions, and hopefully they will take my warning seriously. Progress in other worlds we have looked into has been slow, but not without merit, for every day we search, we come closer to uncovering the doors to their hearts." Tyrannus cast a glance to Nuru, and then back to Lett. "The two of you will return to the places you were assigned, one to make sure the darkness can adequately seep into the environs, and the other to pick up the pieces and get things in order. You're both dismissed."

Inclining his head towards his superior, the lion then summoned forth the same sort of black portal that the two young Masters had seen in action. Without a word, he strolled through it, head held high and a predatory grin on his face, the swirling vortex collapsing once the tip of his tail had passed beyond the veil of shadow. The gargoyle followed suit, though his expression was more disgruntled and annoyed by comparison, a grunt of leftover indignation leaving him just as the gateway closed behind him. Tyrannus shook his head at the display, debating on whether he should check their progress personally in the coming days. Grunting in contemplation, he sat down upon the onyx black ground and crossed his legs, bowing his head as he let his thoughts wander.

Those who served the Progenitor, save one, perhaps three at the most, were unaware of their leader's reasons for sparing the two Masters that had begun interfering with their designs. Tyrannus understood their frustrations, for even as the right hand to their boss, he was out of the loop. But what the Progenitor had done for him had garnered absolute loyalty to the figure that few of them had ever laid eyes upon, much less conversed with. That, of course, did not mean he didn't have personal feelings towards his benefactor. A small part of the man felt a powerful and irrational anger towards the Progenitor, yet the reasons escaped him. Tyrannus would have dismissed such things and attributed them to losing his mind to his heart in moments of weakness.

But the issue with that was, through hearsay, he discovered that he was not the only one who had these bouts of emotional turmoil. It was not uncommon for those under the Progenitor to continually experience their last major mood before they became a part of the ranks, he could attest. But Tyrannus had seen the fires in their eyes. The smoldering fury or, at times, the soul-crushing despondency, was palpable on occasion, and it disturbed him at how prevalent it was starting to become. Lett's earlier attempt to talk back to him was convincing evidence, and while Nuru had not yet displayed any signs, the human would be surprised if the lion wasn't secretly simmering or sulking in his downtime. As for the others, it was feasible, though it had been some time since they had last checked in or reported to Tyrannus directly.

What had him most concerned was whether the Progenitor actually cared about any of this. If so, why had no efforts been made to allay the discontent? And if not, was the possibility of them turning on their leader not as much of a threat as Tyrannus believed it would be? Questions poured ceaselessly into Tyrannus' head, and one above all caused him to pause not in shock, but revelation. It had triggered a memory locked away deep in his unconscious mind, one that may have been lost forever had he not pondered recent events. Now, it had finally returned and was banging on the door to his consciousness, demanding itself to be known once more.

_What did our Master ever see in you?_

**Post-Story Notes:** Apologies to those I've kept waiting for this. First, the next chapter for our protagonists is not finished and won't be for a little while. Having recently moved and obtained work while figuring out other important life choices and needs has been the bane of my free time. That said, I put in at least a little bit of effort every time I open up the documents, even if only a paragraph (or a single sentence or fix) comes of it. This story will continue, make no mistake.

Short and sweet is how I see this chapter, and it gives us insight into what has been happening behind the scenes on both sides of the conflict Viscus and Verité have taken up. How will the machinations of this group led by the mysterious Progenitor play out? What difference can the Veneficus family make in joining the battle? Find out in due time, loyal readers.

And now you know that the A and B in the chapter titles stand for Alpha and Beta, respectively. So, be prepared to expect Delta chapters on occasion.


End file.
